The Latins had repelled the Saracens one more time, and Balduin IV had crowned himself King of Syria.

Nono, it was Balduin V who did that!

But how could he, he was but a child! And, oh, apparently dead?

You got it all wrong, my cousin is serving on a Genovese galley and he says that the Christians were routed en masse and that the heathens have wiped the Holy City from the globe, just so that they could summon a host of daemons!

Wasn’t your cousin a squire to Philip II last week?

It lasted months, in some places like far Anglia even years but eventually it was made clear to all: in the year of our Lord, 1187, Balian of Ibelin treated with the Sultan Saladin, ceding the city of Jerusalem.

People cared, despaired, prayed, cursed, argued and eventually slept, their involvement for the most not requiring something more.
However some people couldn’t sleep, because that event had just cut off their biggest source of funds and materials, and they didn’t feel like giving up.

1188 - A palace in Rome that definitively isn’t the Palazzo del Laterano

A dozen or so of men in mostly red robes are talking in a middle-sized room. It’s afternoon outside but there is no light coming from the windows. Indeed, there are no windows at all.
The talk has been ongoing for the better part of the day but these elders of the Church didn’t rise to their positions by paying concern to the earthly necessities of their bodies.

“I don’t know what we’re arguing about anymore,” The youngest of the group, looking to be in his early 50s, says so while repressing a sigh.

“My child, this is not the time or the place or the occasion for levity and if you feel your duty pressing too heavily on you...” The eldest of the groups curtly replies, pointing with a decrepite finger towards the door. The others pay no heed, much of the discussion thus far has seemed more like a generational power struggle than an emergency reunion of the fathers of Christianity.

“Be that as it may, Pietro, I feel like nothing has been resolved so far. We could argue ‘till the day that the graves are reopened and everyone will be made to justify himself to Him, and I shudder at the idea of having to recount a failure of this size,” This is the first voice to speak with an accent that betrays a non-Italian origin, his Latin still not grave and angular enough after all these decades.

“Thibaud, Thibaud, you speak of failure but should you not refrain from casting on our shoulders the sins of others?” The young old man retorts mellifously.

“ENOUGH of this, I refuse to take part in this folly anymore!”, the voice of his adversary booms again, “You miserable lot may want to indulge in these recriminations as you see fit, but I’m done with this. I’ll take action anyway, and that He may do of my soul as He shall see fit.”

The door slams on his last word, leaving his peers all but resigned to the impending catastrophe, only a modicum of dignity stopping them from sighing.

“I hope that you are happy, Adelardo, now you can stay assured that in less of a week he’ll have another bunch of miscreants and infidels ready to throw to the flames, and call it a success.”

“Happy? No. Surprised? Neither. Pietro will not stay silent until his ‘Holy Church’ gets approved as a Ordo Maior via enciclica. I say that giving him this problem to keep his mind busy is the best that we could hope for...”

So here it is, my first BL RP. General idea is what you can expect: Jerusalem has fallen, the Crusades have fucked up and the Church is making a last-ditch attempt to recover as many holy relics as possible before the infidels consolidate their new conquests.
The plan involves sending the proverbial bunch of expendable misfits to sort that shit out and die trying.
No, not the most imaginative idea ever but fuck who cares?
This is basically about throwing the party in a hostile environment, filled with natural dangers, brown dudes who are getting tired of the white people’s shit and all the supernatural Middle Eastern crap that I feel like throwing at them.
So that we shall see how magnificently (????) the Eighth Sacrament was forged in the crucible of battle, provided that the RP doesn’t die before people even arrive at Jerusalem.

Freeform because I’d die doing the GM for a rule-based dice-less system and I don’t feel like choking the BL RP section with dice if people here aren’t too hot about them.

Eight players because proto-Eight Sacrament and I like pretending to be smart. If I get more people interested it will go merit based and judged anonymously because fairness is cruel and funny.

-The Battle of Legnano is of 1176, at the time of the RP the Holy Roman Empire is still reeling from one of its major defeats against the ever-growing Italian Communes. Cities are turning the tide against the country.

-Genghis Khan is still alive. Not that it should matter unless you feel like playing a Chinese but who am I to stop you from that?

-Luther has yet to come but ecumenism isn’t a reality even for these days: barely a decade before the RP the Third Lateran Council condemned Catharism as heresy. And contrary to what your characters might believe “heathenism” isn’t a single religion.

-Feudalism is still the word of the day: your character doesn’t think in Westphalian terms.

-No matter what, this is till a Nasuverse RP so I’m not going to punish you if you treat history liberally because I’d feel stupid as fuck doing otherwise.

-Powerlevels: frankly, I don’t really care. Just don’t be retarded, ok? Remember anyway that this is almost a millennium before the Nasuverse that we know, so a lot closer to the origin and all that jazz.

-”Hey will the RP have X?” / “Can my character have Y?”. Assume the answer to be yes. So long as you can bullshit a convincing explanation I will allow you leeway. In fact I’m using this idea of the “proto Eighth Sacrament” precisely to justify the presence of outsiders that the Church doesn’t normally approve of.
also lol we know fuck-all about middle ages in the Nasuverse so go crazy

-Your gender, age and looks are of course not irrelevant both in and out of combat. Remember that the day when you curse how difficult it is to pass undetected when your character looks like a Final Fantasy reject.

Character template:

Name: Duh
Sex: What does equality mean?
Age: Ojou-chan, isn’t that claymore a bit too big for you? Oh it’s magic? Carry on.
Looks: Hey, do all people in your country have red eyes?
Religion: Sorry, what’s a fedora?
Background: What does incest have to do with your superpowers????
Supernatural: Whatever your character possesses that elevates him from the common folk. Magecraft, ESP, whatever you feel like. If you want to go really creative you might require GM’s approval.
Equipment: I don’t really care about you listing here your napkins and other irrelevant stuff but you’re going to do a lot of trekking in the desert so you will have to note things like the amount of water you’re carrying and any survival equipment. Mystic Codes and other special equipment are allowed, within the limits of your character’s background. The Church wants more shinies, they aren’t going to give you the big stuff if you risk getting your throat slit in Damascus.

Sheets due for the 14th but I can give extensions if needed.

GM

A strong wind from the south-east was blowing through the square and warrens of Messina, carrying proof of its origin in the grains of sand that had been covering the port city for the past three days. By now the citizens didn’t even pay attention to it anymore, accepting with ill grace how the golden brown mantle had made their huts indistinguishable.
The future St. Francis was not even ten years old, in the year of Our Lord 1188, but the people of Europe were already intimately familiar with the wisdom of his prayer, of accepting that which cannot be changed.A man in black reflected that his inability to adopt that kind of mindset was just was set him apart from the flock that he was tasked to shepherd, for the predations of wolves had to be met with utmost resistance and certainly not with the “turn the other cheek” approach.That this was a heresy was something he couldn’t care less about if it allowed him to save his herd.
“They all appear to not be practitioners of punctuality, if their absence here is any indication…” He stiffly complained to his protege, a pretty boy that would probably not need a razor even twenty years from now.The boy coughed awkwardly, trying not to meet the elder’s eyes. “Father, I think they might be lost… if you remember they were only told to come at ‘the port of Messina”... and it is a big one and yougotlostyesterday.”“Nonsense, my child, if they can’t find us then clearly they aren’t the right me… people for this mission.” This time it was his turn to clear his throat, still embarrassed by the result of his idea to allow for open recruitment. Seven women and one man! He would end up the laughingstock of the Vatican if his enemies ever got wind of this…

The port to the Holy Land had lost the sensitivity to strangeness some tens of thousands of destitute pilgrims ago, as the call for the Crusade had resonated the strongest in the outcast of society. That the group of eight women and men just arrived at the port stlll managed to attract stares was impressive but the eight were probably too tired and frustrated to notice or care.
Their meeting, just on the evening of the day before, had been only vaguely fore-planned and more an act of the Providence for the eight persons arriving from all the corners of Europe with only the information to “Be in Messina no later than on the morning of the 15th of April, when you will rendez-vous at the docks with two clericals and your companions. Advised to take lodging at Hostaria dal Moro. Bring light clothing. Travel at your expenses. God wills it.”
Truth be told, it had only been their own peculiarity to draw them to each other. Yes, people of all sorts could be found at the port. Yes, only the craziest of pilgrims were still trying to voyage to a city newly conquered by the infidels. Yes, we’re all equal in His eyes.But battle-scarred Nordic women weren’t common in these lands. And you wouldn’t find many prepubescent noble girls walking around without an escort. Well maybe the knight in armor was the esco… curiously feminine that one. And there was another girl in armor, expect this one was also wearing a skirt…? Well, women in capelets were far more common, although not even the Norman ones had skin that fair. Half-starved women are commonplace in every age, but you’d be hard-pressed to find one that acted as vigorously as that other one. The brown-skinned girl was, ironically, not Arabic enough in looks to appear normal. And… was that a normal looking Hospitaller knight? A male one, at that? Astounding.

They had been searching for their elusive quarry/employer for the better part of the morning, still lost in the seas of people that were all trying to find means to cross a more literal one.Nevertheless there are times when sheer perseverance and no greater talent gets rewarded, for there they were! Two men in some curious priestly robes, one old and one young, just next to a sleek Papal dromon harbored in one of the most desolate corners of the port, still too engrossed in arguing with each other to notice the eight eccentrics that were less than a hundred meters from them.It would probably be up to the larger group to go and meet them, provided nobody stopped to complain about the weather...

Maude
Wandering the Messina Port

The group of misfits had to have been searching the port for hours, and yet there was somehow always more to see. Countless people from across the land, dressed in all manner clothing both strange and familiar, as far as the eye could see. One person's gaze could easily fall on more people at once than they had seen throughout their whole live before. For some, the great sea of travelers would be no more than an obstacle, but for at least one woman, it was an adventure.

That woman's name was Maude, and though she had finally gotten her amazement under control, she still seemed livelier than anyone for a mile around. Her skin was worn and stretched taut over her visible bones, and her hair was faded and brittle, but to any observer she would almost seem like a little girl again. On any other day, she would be liable to wander through the crowds without a thought of business, but that day was important. No more combing France in search of petty thieves and liars. If there was a reason Maude still lived, it was for that opportunity on that day.

Maude cut through the crowd with ease, but could not keep herself from stopping every now and then to take in the sights. It was probably for the best, though. The group's employer-to-be was not making himself easy to find. He could have been anywhere!

Eventually, in perhaps the smallest and quietest corner of the port, Maude's eyes fell upon the men she was looking for. Three times, in fact, before she realized what she was looking at. An older man in black standing with a much younger boy, seemingly arguing about something. Behind them was their ship, some rowing vessel that probably had an overly long name. Very suspicious, indeed, and something that suspicious could only be what the group was looking for!

Without any regard for her companions, Maude quickly strode towards the ship, nudging bystanders out of the way when needed. The others would notice soon enough, if they didn't already. After all, if God had seen fit to bring the ten of them together, surely He would not have them split up before they even found one another. When she was finally in earshot, Maude pulled down the hood of her poor no-longer-white cloak and smiled brightly towards the two still arguing.

"Well, hello there!" Without a care in the world, the gaunt woman barged into the conversation, cheery voice entirely at odds with her appearance. "You two have not made yourselves easy to find. We would have been here far sooner if we had directions, you know."

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

I sniffed the air.

Ah, that was a good breeze! Delivering us from the mud and fish in the harbor; a fresh gust of salt and mist, tamping down dust in the street. It brought new life into this awful city - what a nightmare. Thousands of years of people on the same land, building in mud then wood then stone then wood again in a madcap pile of material, not one element making any sense with the others and each in fact trying to climb over and strangle its brothers. It made my skin crawl. So I was awfully thankful for the breeze.

It was such a perfect city for a crusade, or at least the small one that 'we' were evidently part of. 'We' - insofar as I wasn't sure there was a we. There was an eight-some of us, who had stumbled on each other off the docks or on the road, slowly growing the group. Some of us didn't stand out much among the washed-up dregs of the last crusade, and those that did - like the viking - couldn't have been the strangest thing in Messina in the last decade.

Even though it was all that I should have expected at first, I still hated it. Despite the heat, I stayed curled over, holding a wool cloth close around my shoulders with one hand, spinning a small disk around the fingers of the other. It helped.

We could have used help of a different kind. Had we been expected to find two men out of hundreds of rotting temporary piers by sheer luck? Maybe it was fitting - only eight of us, and certainly no great knights among the group. The enterprise seemed half-baked; from what Father Amilcare had told me, I assumed it was most likely the whim of a single cardinal, rolling the dice for success. Despite that, he evidently owed someone something, so here I was. Watching an aged woman charge priests like I might be assumed to do with a squire. I stepped up besides her, making at least my presence clear, though I preferred not to talk. If I had anything to value to add, it wasn't to positional squabbling.

Eridis,Messina Port

As I walked around the port I couldn't help but marvel at the city. It may not have been the grandest city I had ever been to, but just the sheer amount of people in cities like this never ceased to amaze me. It was like being on a passive battlefield, loud noises and all.

It was rather warm and so I was glad I had decided to wear my travelling robes instead of my stuffy armor, even if it was a hassle having to carry it around in a bag over my shoulder. Days like this make me long for home. There is something to be said about the feel on snow on my face while covered in warm furs, sadly I left that behind quite a long time ago. Atleast I still had my long wild hair to remind me of where I came.

My thoughts fell to my companions, some of them must have also come a long way to be here. Mostly women huh, I guess fate also has a sense of humour.

One of them had taken the lead, a woman named Maude, I think. The introductions had been short and I have always been poor with names. I silently followed her as she made her way to the crowds while stopping every now and then. While she definately looked as tired as the rest of us, her energetic attitude didn't show it.

It took us hours before we finally found the priests. The two men were standing in one of the most desolate corners of the port loudly arguing with each other. Behind them was presumably our vessel. I let out a loud sigh at the thought of even more travel by ship.

Maude had already ran to the priests and started conversation when I made my way beside her silently looking at the priests waiting to be addressed or for my companion to be done with her conversation.

Iliana

There was a lot to be said about the lack of preparation, she left.

Not her own, but the expedition as a whole. Making her, and the others she supposed, come all the way out here without proper instructions was simply shameful.

She had to admit, she wasn't overly fond of the company either. They were strange, and not particularly in the interesting sense, though perhaps that was simply her first impression. Either way, they didn't match what her cousin and her own experience described as the typical agents of the Church, which reflected even more poorly on this adventure.

Still, she would do her duty regardless.

The two men finally came into view, one old and one young, and that was when the awkwardness began. Thinking about it, she had never asked her cousin to describe the people of the Church that they were in contact with, and her own involvement in such things was a rare case.

That was to say, she had no idea if the older member of the clergy was an old family acquaintance, or someone whom they had never met or interacted with.

Hesitating slightly, she decided to allow the others to begin the conversation; she would know how to act once they introduced themselves.

The knight clicked his tongue, listening to the morning breeze carrying hundreds of voices to his ears. Garnier could hear them all, pick them out individually by voice, and then tone, and from there gender was easy enough, even if he couldn't understand some of them. For a moment, it was almost too much, and he had to close his eyes and breathe in, tasting the sea and all the colors of the port and people.

Even as he tried to block it out, the knight couldn't help but hear the idle chatter of the weary pilgrims that passed them by. He couldn't fault them for that – his companions did not blend in with the rest. The fair-haired man gave an idle glance to the group of women that he had arrive with, noting their height, their race; yes, he could not fault the other travelers for that

Still, it wasn't so bad. Through some plan that he could not understand, the young man had been paired with attractive women; some were too young, but others... the knight shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his mind. The young man firmly told himself that his devotion only lay with God, and his thoughts would not stray from purity, even as his eyes strayed to the bodies of his companions.

What is this? You aren't a teenager anymore. Keep the vows you have taken.

Right.

The knight focused on the priests before him, and came up to them along with the rest of the group, following Maude's question. He clasped his fist to his chest and introduced himself to the agents of the Lord, brothers of the Church.

"Knight Garnier of the Hospitaller stands before you, Fathers. I am yours to command in the name of the Church and God... I must agree with my companion, though. You were rather hard for us to find."

Alice Elizabeth de Warenne, Messina Port

Wow! What an interesting place... look at all the different kinds of people here!

My Brothers used to bring me back all manner of trinkets and relics when they returned from Crusade. But being here, witnessing the bustling sights and sounds of Messina, is far more than I could imagine from the green fields of England. To explore distant lands! What an experience. I wonder what awaits in the Holy Land? Relics? The True Cross! Battle? Tales of valor and chivalry!

It was rather hot here, in this full plate armour, with a huge shield slung over the cloak of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre. But a knight has to wear armour, right? Actually, I was only knighted last week, but it was only natural for a member of my House.

I had imagined that all of my companions would also be Knights, but upon seeing them it seems that there is only one other. Even our group is going to be fun! I waved to the assembling party as I approached.

"Hello there! I'm Alice!"

Aliana

She was thirsty.

Opening her flask once more, she took a large gulp of water, trying to make that nagging feeling go away. But it wouldn’t, and she knew it wouldn’t, until she would cave in and recklessly use her blade. But she had to keep that thirst in check. Today was an important day, and important days meant being sober and not hung over.

So she could leave a good first impression. They could feel burning disappointment in her later, but for now, her mind had to be clear. With the exception of that nagging thirst. She shook her head to free herself of such sinful thoughts, and noticed that her companions were talking with a pair, a boy and a man, presumably their contacts. Well, the others could talk. She was more of a doing, violent sort, as tragic as it was.

She sighed, glancing at her sword, eyes lingering for far too long.

Aliana took another gulp of water.

She was going to die in the damn desert.

Theodora

Port of Messina

The morning found her at the foot of a majestic bell tower. Gazing up, the glint of sunlight off polished bells, ringing a joyous awakening, was almost blinding; similarly, the smooth masonry of the cathedral's facade caught the light charmingly, bringing to life the exquisite sculpted forms that adorned the frame of a heavy double gate, already open to receive the day's worshipers. The exuberant cheer of novelty was still present in the air, both in the proud faces of the cityfolk and the scaffolds yet present in the high reaches of the dome, painters adding the final touches to a fresco.

The precious gem of the port-city, the Duomo di Messina. From within its halls, the morning prayer soared through open gates to the clear air.

At the final toll she turned away; but she, too, in her heart, held a similar prayer.

They weren't subtle at all. Not that they were actually trying to be, but she doubted they could go unnoticed even if they wanted to. A warrior woman looking every bit like she'd fit in with the Guard of the Golden Throne, young girls barely old enough for marriage, much less to lift a sword in battle, a bright-faced knight whose ordinariness felt almost out of place amidst the bizarre decorum of the small party; truly, she could have found them based on nothing but the trail of curious whispers alone.

Not that it mattered overmuch. It was highly unlikely that the good people of Messina would ever lay eyes on this group of people again. Or the Western shores in general, for that matter.

Mulling over such idle thoughts, the woman detached herself from the shadows, and fell in stride with the small group so smoothly as to seem like she had been walking by their side from the start. For the inquisitive eyes turning on her, she merely held that letter, the proof of employment, up for brief scrutiny. There would be a time and place for introductions later, was her thought, as the ragtag party made their way down the wharf, until, finally, what seemed like the meeting point came into view.

The winds were favourable that day. Indeed, God seemed to will their journey.

GM

Unsurprisingly it was the young boy the first to notice the arrival of the group, during one of the few pauses for respite from the perennial grumblings of his patron.

He was just the third son of a German knight too poor to afford a decent armor for himself, and how he had ended up in the entourage of one of the biggest names of the Curia Romana was something that he had given up on understanding long ago.

The same, unfortunately, applied to his job: how should a near-nobody from Melk know of the feuds between a Colonna and an Orsini, or of how he was supposed to arrange an audience with the Imperial envoy?

He had taken the daily ritual of cursing the name of the infidels' prophet because he knew that he was the root cause of his predicament, this monumental disaster that had just now resulted in a very odd woman getting too friendly with His Eminence.

'Be a good lad and see that our usual contacts send us some eight specialists, take care of everything.'
Who these contacts were, where they were located and how he was supposed to contact them he had frankly no idea.

In his defense he had tried to make some sense of it first, or at least to have someone lay the basics for him but the Eternal City was a madhouse in those days, everyone running around while trying to salvage the situation in the East and they all had been too busy for him.

So, yes, maybe he should have done a better job with the selection process, maybe he should have gotten more help from the Inquisition and the Executors and maybe this meeting should have been better organized but maybe humans should learn to appreciate what they have.

Nothing of this mattered anymore anyway, for his faith had been rewarded: the eight were finally here and if he could just manage to send them off before His Eminence suffered a heart failure he would be on the road back to Rome in a few hours.

With the speed of desperation he interposed himself between the madwoman and His Eminence before the latter could start a new tirade, exhibiting the most convincing smile of his life.

"Ha-ha-ha but how dull life would be if the Allmighty already provided us with everything, don't you agree? And what are a few hours of work compared to the eternal joy of Paradise!". He was already gesticulating frantically, doing his best to cover his outrageous French with as much manual aid as possible, silently thanking his years in Italy for teaching him this talent.
It was working, he could see it, the woman was just about to answer him back and everything would be - - -

"It was not up to us to make ourselves visible but simply up you to walk around with your eyes well opened."
That hurensohn.

His Eminence Alberto di Morra, Deacon-Cardinal of St. Nicholas in Carcere, was everything that his aide was not. Brilliant, choleric and hateful of weaknesses, he was the kind of man who truly understood why Christ said of himself to be carrying a sword.

He had been waiting for hours for men and women clearlytoo lazy or cowardly for a task that he would have given his place in Paradise for; no-one could have said his anger was unjustified.

"The seed of Adam and Eve is weak, that I do know, but I thought that the young still possessed a better eyesight than mine... No matter, just have Falcknes give you his packs of sand and get aboard before you miss the tide."

He stopped talking, his role in this grand affair clearly concluded. Alas, the glory would be for others...

Maude
Port of Messina

Of course it was the young boy who first greeted Maude. He seemed quite cheery, if maybe a little too cheery. His face looked sincere, but his voice sounded off, and there was entirely too much flailing. Then she looked past him to the elderly man and understood the problem. Being respectful probably would have been a wise decision.

It was not up to us to make ourselves visible but simply up to you to walk around with your eyes well opened.

Hm. One of those types, then? Oh, how Maude wanted to respond in kind, but the priest before her seemed quite important. Completely different from that bumbling lord so long ago, who only wanted to be quite important. Still, unwise as it may have been, she could not resist saying something. When the priest finished, Maude bowed her head slightly and switched to the formal tone she used to take when speaking to her old lord. Doing her best to choose the right words without breaking face, of course. Many years practice had made her quite skilled at that.

"And so, by the grace of God, we are here. A little later than Your Eminence suspected, perhaps, but even an eagle cannot pick one man out of ten thousand without first taking flight. We are just men and women, with only our feet to carry us, and only a few vague words to guide us. If He saw fit to bring us here together against all odds, is it really Man's right to criticize Him?"

An even worse choice of words than before, no doubt, but Maude was unworried. After being freed from the dreadful old noble she hardly had any patience for stuffy and superior-sounding old men. Without another word, she bowed again and left the priest to start carrying sandbags aboard.

Garnier de Nablus
At the Port of Messina

The knight very quietly tried not to jump on the priest with questions, his mind whirling. He had come to Messina because of his oath, moving as fast as he could, worried something grave had happened, wondering why he, of all people, had been called... but now, he found himself before a choice that gave him only one option. He sighed, looking, for an instant, more like a boy than a man.

Quote:

"And so, by the grace of God, we are here. A little later than Your Eminence suspected, perhaps, but even an eagle cannot pick one man out of ten thousand without first taking flight. We are just men and women, with only our feet to carry us, and only a few vague words to guide us. If He saw fit to bring us here together against all odds, is it really Man's right to criticize Him?"

Garnier had a rebuke to the woman on his tongue, but bit it back. He didn't want to antagonize his companions, and lecturing people on respect had rarely won him favors. He smiled at Falcknes, not understanding a word he had said, but trying to be respectful all the same. He nodded to the old man, and extended his hand forwards.

"Please, allow me to assist you."

He spoke in plain Latin, sword hanging at his side and shield slung over his back. The knight was fairly certain that he could carry more than the young boy, and anything that would speed their departure would help them in the long run.

There were, no doubt, more provisions on the ship, and if the young woman draining her water bottle was any indication, the earlier they were granted access to them, the better.

Aliana

The boy looked tired. In fact, he looked downright exhausted, no doubt due to the holy man right next to him. In fact, she was well aware of those particularly fervent types who tended to drone on and on when the meszsage was already instilled in everyone’s hearts. Certainly, their hearts were in the right place, but the Lord had invented time, a precious commodity. Would it be bothersome to use such a commodity efficiently for all?

But, regardless, every man deserves a good drink. And it looks like we’re already well past the “good initial impression” part, so I might as well quench that lingering thirst in my throat and cheer up a poor boy.

I pull out my sword, whose name escapes me at the time, and recite a familiar passage of the Bible in French.

“Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now.”

It glows, faintly, and I tap both of the flasks at my side, and hand one to the poor boy.

“Falcknes, is it? Care for a friendly drink? I assume you two have been standing out here all day, and certainly you must have a thirst that needs to be quenched.”

With that, I take a chug out of my own flask, reveling in the taste of fine wine.

There really would be nothing better than this, I thought, looking into the half-empty flask.

Theodora
Port of Messina

Really, how could that fumbling boy, who was making his best impression of a barbarian merchant trying to haggle, have ended up the aide of such an eminent personage as a Cardinal? It might have been nepotism or political favours; or maybe the services provided run in the opposite direction. She very well knew the deviance that men sworn to priesthood were capable of indulging in, after all. At the moment though, what was much more consequential than the boy and the Cardinal's relationship was the latter's intent to send them off beyond the sea with nothing more than a nod and a prayer.

She stepped forward and level with the gaunt woman that was currently putting a lot of energy into asking the wrong questions. Dipping in a bow of respectful deference, not lower than her waist, she awaited for the other woman - her new companion - to conclude her impassioned speech.

Quote:

"And so, by the grace of God, we are here. A little later than Your Eminence suspected, perhaps, but even an eagle cannot pick one man out of ten thousand without first taking flight. We are just men and women, with only our feet to carry us, and only a few vague words to guide us. If He saw fit to bring us here together against all odds, is it really Man's right to criticize Him?"

"Furthermore," her cool voice cut in, "it would be counterproductive to His cause, if His humble servants were to sail into the unknown with only those few words at hand." And here she lifted her head to square a look at the impassive Cardinal.

"That is to say, we humbly enquire about this party's purpose, of which the letter did not speak, so that we may know the mission God has entrusted upon us. If you would be so kind, Your Eminence."

GM

Years later Falcknes would still lament, if someone at the inn felt like offering a drink to the drunkard in the corner, how it all came crashing down just as he had started nurturing hope again.

Everything had been working in his favor for making that sorry excuse for a meeting as incomprehensible as possible: the bustle and occasional shouts from the masses at the port, the strong wind buffeting the area and almost choking with sand those trying to make themselves heard and that Babel of languages that the newcomers were creating.

He was already distributing the sacks to the others, not even bothering to explain their purpose when it happened.

Quote:

"That is to say, we humbly enquire about this party's purpose, of which the letter did not speak, so that we may know the mission God has entrusted upon us. If you would be so kind, Your Eminence."

Pure silence reigned as some in the group needed time to parse the clearly foreign Latin spoken by the Greek woman, and others could only understand that something important had just been said but Pietro Diana didn’t belong to either of these categories.

It shouldn’t need saying that he was a man of strong mind and will, if occasionally prone to over-enthusiasm and sloppiness: he could see with no effort that of the group before him only the Hospitaller knight seemed ready for departure and that could be chalked up to his vow of obedience.

Firmly he turned to his protege.“Boy, let's have words.”

There would be no reason to remember those awful words or the impression that they left on those who heard them. The only one directly affected by them was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and his sorry part in History was already concluded.

Some time later, his organism now blessedly free of malign humours, the old man finally answered the woman’s question.
“You will all be bearers of the Cross. The Holy Land is now lost to us, I trust that you all know of that and of the new Pope’s attempt to retake it. And he will make it, of that I’m sure: even now the Holy Synod is working to bring to peace England and France and it seems that that rabid dog of an Emperor might finally bring his might for a just cause."

Some anger now returned to his voice: "But we lost so much with Hattin and that ignoble surrender of the Coward of Ibelin, relics that the Saracens are now despoiling with their corrupted hands, the Holy Cross is only the first of the list. Godfrey’s sword, the Red Mantle, the False Scripture… those are all priceless relics and our war effort would surely reach the zenith if we could have them again."
"What say you? Will you ask your Father to let the cup pass from you?"

Quote:

“Falcknes, is it? Care for a friendly drink? I assume you two have been standing out here all day, and certainly you must have a thirst that needs to be quenched.”

Meanwhile, the something which turned to the eager, joyful invite didn’t speak French even at the best of times but it still had left an instinctual understanding of its wants and needs, and the flask went down in a flash.

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm
Messina

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," I responded, giving the words by heart and rote. Deus vult - so far as I could gather, that now made sense: we were to be Crusaders ourselves, in a smaller fashion.

This, itself, was not as fearful as it might seem - it was a revelation. There was that odd sense, founded when Father Amilcare gifted me the axe: that the weapon, the mission, somehow, was more appropriate than the quiet church of the vineyards and hills and gardened courtyards. To discover this now, I thought, was somewhat of a gift. Knowing was better than not.

Alice drew her ornate longsword and held it horizontally aloft above her head, drawing a foul look from some of the others present.

It excited her to hear the old man's words, despite the fact she already vaguely knew the purpose of the mission, having sweet-talked the senile fools at the Holy See a few weeks beforehand.

From Anglia to Zion... that was always the plan, and it was coming together rather fortuitously.

The Holy Land was in sight!

Eridis,Messina Port

I got down on one knee. "When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers" I say in the most mangled latin yet. "Deus Vult"

This entire trip had already become worth it, knowing I was one of the few chosen for this holy mission. Finally my purpose is clear, the question answered why I was saved all that time ago.

A single tear dropped as I was still bowing.

"Thank you for this opportunity god."

Iliana, Port

How...odd. They all acted as though they didn't know why they were even here. Were they so pious that they did not even have to ask why when summoned, or simply so lowly that they had nothing that could possibly occupy their time? It must have been freeing, in a way, to have so little responsibilities.

Latin appeared to be what was expected for the occasion.

"I've already sworn on my faith to return them."

Not as polite as she ought to have been, she supposed, but a man who declined introductions also declined the respect his position warranted.

"Details were remarkably scarce, however, as to where we should bring them once the retrieval is accomplished. Are we to march from Jerusalem to Rome?"

Hopefully not. There were many things that she would do for the prize, but accomplishing a task worthy of a simple messager was coming dangerously close to an insult.

At the Port of Messina
Garnier de Nablus

Garnier bowed his head, hiding the slight tremor that ran across his face. Serving God was a just cause, one that he had upheld for many years, and yet... the knight shook those thoughts away, and looked up as the priest finished speaking.

The man let out a breath of air, smiling without meaning too. The other knight's optimism was infectious, and when Garnier answered the Cardinal, his voice was firm and clear of any doubt.

"Deus vult."

Maude
Port of Messina

Everyone was still talking while Maude set to carrying sand. Talking in Latin, probably, leaving her with no clue what anyone was saying. How rude. Maude was not alone in her enthusiasm, at least, though it probably was a good idea to at least learn where the group was traveling.

Still, Maude was not so enthusiastic that she would carry all of the sand aboard herself. After the male knight seemed to be finished talking, she tapped him on the shoulder and quickly shoved what she was carrying into his arms.

"Words aren't worth anything, only actions, and we can't act if this ship never leaves. Help me load these so we can be on our way."

At the Port of Messina
Garnier de Nablus

Garnier blinked as the girl dumped the bags of sand into his arms, her intent clear. He bowed to the two priests behind him, making his excuses.

"To the ship, then."

Even though he held multiple sandbags, the knight was not phased, and took two more from the pile Falcknes had laid out. It would do well to get their voyage underway.

GM

The good mood of the Crusaders was overbearing, almost palpable in the humid air of the port, as they took to the duty of their mission with barely a word of comment, their recent confusion all but forgotten.
For a singular irony it was his crescent state of inebriation that didn't allow Falcknes to try for a desperate reconquista of his position, just now that his lord could have more profited from some assistance, succumbing to the young man's folly of conceding the battlefield when he still had the strength to fight.

It bears repeating that His Eminence was not like him in this as in other regards, and he was summoning with a gesture the crewmen from the ship when some of the newcomers were still in the midst of their affirmation of God's will.
These sailors were the more nondescript of the bunch, if only because the "tattooed and rough looking sailor" is a template universal across history, and they too wasted no time or words before grabbing all the luggage of their new passengers.

Quote:

"Details were remarkably scarce, however, as to where we should bring them once the retrieval is accomplished. Are we to march from Jerusalem to Rome?"

After the child's question it was Pietro's turn to express his confusion: "Clearly not, as you are already not going to Jerusalem directly in the first place. I wish that Saladin was so courteous as to allow us that, this mission would turn simple indeed!"

Even with this comment, levity had not entered the old man's tone; rather it would be fair to assume that they were not acquaintances,
"Your ship is sailing to Tyre, our last stronghold in the Kingdoms and the soon-to-be rallying point for the Third Crusade. From there you shall proceed by your own means to Jerusalem and the other cities of the infidels: our people there are more likely to request your assistance than to be able to provide some."

The man turned now his back to the sea, his gaze pointed on the centre of the city.
"Everything that you recover shall be handed in personally to our agent in Tyre. The Church has grown tired of feudal lords wasting our treasures on their follies."

A few seconds passed while the Cardinal occasionally opened his mouth to add something, while half-suppressed hiccups from his left kept on interrupting him.
"I'll leave that fool boy to explain everything else to you during the voyage. Feel free to throw him to the fish when you're done."

Hic.

Iliana

She forced herself to ignore her rising irritation.

Perhaps it was all a big misunderstanding on her part, and he wasn't being overly dismissive. Perhaps it was custom out here.

Accepting the dismissal with as little rancor as possible, she bowed politely.

"Of course, thank you for your time."

Turning her back to the nameless mystery man, she stepped on the boat.

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

I shrugged, and proceeded onto the ship. Maybe I could ask questions, maybe I could object. But one had the sense that this was the kind of thing that was supposed to happen: that I ought to be going this way anyways, and that no matter what I did, objecting, or seeking detail, was futile. Life and history would move towards it.

Theodora
Port of Messina

It was as the Roman had said, hunched over the mug that he clutched with alchemy-stained fingers, in that run-down tavern in Veszprém. In between a long monologue on the "multitudinous technical intricacies" of his translation of the Kyranides and a segue into the fascinating "system of quantitative transmutation" developed among the Sephardi sages, the whisper of this recruitment that was revealed with an insouciance that only ale can lend had brought her all the way to this wharf. A reclamation of sacred relics, taken from the Christian holdings to be trampled upon by studded boots, pilfered by heathen hands, or buried under the swirling dusts of the Holy Land; this was a mission far removed from a pilgrimage, as the old man's presence — and oh, she very well knew who he was — would attest. Even in his irritated speech , both to their group and to his foolish assistant, and the hurried stride with which now departed from the pier, she could feel the tenseness of purpose.

With another small bow at the retreating man's back, she made to board the ship herself, not bothering to stop when she grabbed onto the collar of the attendant from where he stood at the side of the boarding plank as she passed. To his slurred perplexment, she had few words of comfort to offer.

"Rejoice, for it seems your master has seen fit to enroll you into our most sacred mission. I must concur with his spirit; young men like you are better served for adventure than clinging on the robes of old men," she quipped to ringing ears, bodily dragging the inebriated boy to his precipitous and indeterminable future.

GM

The dromon the newly established party stepped in wasn't remarkable, essentially identical to the scores of others that composed the bulk of the fleets of the Empire.

A full deck, currently cluttered with supplies for the voyage still to be carried down below; three pristine looking lateen sails; a single order of oars.

It was a vessel built for speed and combat, definitively the best choice available for a mission hinging on time worries, if necessarily lacking in comforts for the occasional passengers.

The Crusaders were still adjusting to the joyous chaos of the imminent departure when one of the sailors took pity on them, talking at them in an incomprehensible jumble of languages while he took them to the captain's cabin.
Falcknes stayed outside, remaining for a spirited conversation with his new friend.

- - -

"Fuck's sake, there's eight of you damned lot? Does the old man think he booked a bloody fleet?"
As first meetings go, that probably wasn't the best one.

The captain could be called... captainish if one felt generous enough: a stout man with a rosy face, he covered those deficiencies with all the captain-looking garments that could be fitted on his body surface and all the jargon bluster of someone who was trying very hard.

"And where am I to put seven lasses on this ship? Does taking the vows make people forget about the fun things?"

At the Port of Messina
Garnier de Nablus

Garnier raised his hand to the captain.

"I, too, have taken the vows. Wherever I am placed is fine, by my honor as a knight."

Admittedly, many knights he had met had been knights in all but name, but Garnier tryed to convey his honest intentions to the captain as best he could. In the meantime, being on a boat again was exhilarating. He enjoyed the sea – the smell of the water had always appealed to him, and it was away from the many, many smells on the land. All he had to do now was wait for his assignment to be given... although he had mixed feelings about the journey.

He had been only three days travel away from Jerusalem when the time had come, and then he had journeyed for over a month to come to Italy, only to head out once again? The demands of the Church were nonsensical at times – no. The young man shook those thoughts away and looked out to the open sea. He hoped they would get underway soon.

Eridis, Messina Port

The destination was clear, the mission was holy. There was not much to say as I followed the others onto the boat.

The ship was not pretty, but it made that up with being efficient and that’s all we needed right now. One of the sailors led us to the captain’s quarters.

Quote:

Originally Posted by captain

"And where am I to put seven lasses on this ship? Does taking the vows make people forget about the fun things?"

I gave a threatening glance at the captain and said:”You could always make clear to your men that if any of them try to have their way with us, we will make sure they will never have their way with anyone else.”

The last thing this voyage needed was a mutiny just because most of us happened to be women; fear would be the best deterrent.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Garnier

"I, too, have taken the vows. Wherever I am placed is fine, by my honor as a knight."

“I would hope so, that we wouldn’t have to fear the mission being threatened by one of our own for something so banal.”

Turning my head back to the captain “How long do you think this journey to Tyre will take?”

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

I thought to mention that, really, I wasn't ordained, and there were, judging by their garb, at least a few in the same boat in this little group; but it wouldn't solve the problem, exactly.

But the problem may be taken care of by the viking in any case. Even though her taking care was not very Christian of her - it would work for sailors. And for now, I was willing to trust her to be that shield - as if I was seriously concerned for problems in the first place, but if something were to happen, she surely wouldn't back down from the fight, having now given the challenge.

Worst comes to worst, I curl up on the deck between bags of flour. The nights would be pleasant and warm - and thinking of that, the idea sounds good enough to do anyways, regardless of what becomes of our living arrangements.

Quote:

“How long do you think this journey to Tyre will take?”

"Concerned you didn't pack enough bread?" I asked with a laugh. Ah, what would it matter? You're on the boat, and knowing how long it is can only make you obsess over how much time is left on it.

Alice Elizabeth de Warenne
Messina

Ignoring the others discussing living arrangements and travel plans, Alice was leaning over the edge of the boat, staring directly into the water below.

"I've heard there are monsters in the ocean that can rend a ship like this in two in seconds. The great leviathans of the abyss..."

Turning around, she saw Garnier looking over at her. Grinning, she looked into his eyes and said,

"Wouldn't it be exciting if we saw one?"

At the Port of Messina
Garnier de Nablus

Garnier scratched the back of his head, grinning back in spite of himself. His fellow knight's charm was infectious, even if the matter wasn't... lucky to be talking about. Still, he saw no reason not to play along. Composing himself, the knight nodded grimly.

"Indeed, I've heard the tales. The great monster lurks between all routes to the Holy Land, gobbling up any ship that approaches. Even one of my closest friends," Garnier turned away and then sprang back, eyes wide. "Saw its giant tentacles with his own eyes!"

He coughed, suddenly abashed at his slip in composure. Falling on the comforting habit of scratching the back of his head, the blond knight mentally chided himself for giving up his discipline so quickly.

"...Or, that's what I've heard, anyways. I'm sure it would be an exciting adventure if one appeared."

Saying that, the knight held out his hand to the woman in front of him.

"I look forward to working with you, as another soldier of the faith."

GM

The captain hadn't always been a captain, and the prominent belly had been an addition of the last years, but he could still clearly remember his childhood, spent in the malaria-ridden swamps of Sabinia where nothing was scarier than the mosquitoes, and he hadn't had anything to eat yet: if he felt pressure from the threats of Eridis he was very good at not showing it.

"Yeah miss, I'm gonna tell the lads to forget having a cock for the entire voyage, I'm sure it will work. And to answer your question, it normally takes one or two weeks to cross the sea if the winds hold and nothing bad happens."

He then added, in the tone of someone suffering from severe indigestion, that "This entire season has been more whimsical of a maiden at her first, I really can't promise anything for the winds. But God willing we shouldn't meet arab pirates: the word says that they have been recall..."

He didn't complete his sentence, as a crash and a score of curses from the outside interrupted him: "If you'll forgive me, I need to have a few words with those morons..."
"UBA', VIE' QUA!"

Not more than five seconds passed between the captain's shout and the entrance in the cabin of a man in his mid thirties, of indefinite race, whose skin was a patchwork of scars and tattoos.

He quickly got the situation explained by the captain, that the new arrivals had to be given some decent allocations, at the cost of making the others lose their bunk, and that they had to be treated with 'due and undue respect'.

Not adding a word of his own, "Ubà'" motioned the party to follow him out of the cabin, and down below. While out on the deck they could notice that the latest fuck-up had resulted in a few broken crates and a lost eye. Luckily the former possessor of the latter wasn't of the crew and it didn't seem that the incident should create a serious delay for the departure.

The next ten minutes were a combination of boring and depressing, as heated recriminations and diplomacy followed at the relaying of the captain's orders but the man apparently enjoyed enough authority to have them obeyed more or less instantly: the party was promised that "We're gonna take care of this, and fuck Jimbo, he's gonna lose his bunk and no tears will be shed."

One of the crewmen also added that they might to get on deck soon, as the departure was imminent.

At the Port of Messina
Garnier de Nablus

Garnier cleared his throat, the whirlwind of events that had led them from the deck to down below slowly settling down. It was clear to him that rooming with one of his compatriots was not an option – while they certainly seemed capable, they were, of course, women, and therfore it wouldn't do. That only left Falcknes, and to be honest, even if he couldn't quite understand the boy at times, the knight suspected it might be for the best if they roomed together.

"Well, Falcknes, was it?"

The knight looked over to the young and tipsy priest who was currently rocking back and forth on his feet.

"I'll assume we'll room together, if it's all the same to you. It would be improper to do otherwise, I feel."

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

Somehow, the situation sorted itself out. How was over my head - too much sailor's banter and slang for me to follow. But since it was, I left most of my things and went back above, only keeping my axe with me, still wrapped in a cloth.

Being on a ship in the harbor wasn't really different from being in the harbor itself. It was somewhat liberating to be out of the warrens of alleyways, replacing them with a sparse forest of masts. There was at least a real breeze - in strength, but not in smell - wet oak and the rotting remains of the morning's catch. But the ship was different in energy, in emotion. We'd be leaving soon, which gave one a quite different impression than the dusty paths: they were the horizon now, ready to shrink and disappear into the blue.

Interesting that nobody else was here to share the observation. Perhaps it scared them.

Eridis, Port of Messina, Ship

Quote:

Originally Posted by captain

"Yeah miss, I'm gonna tell the lads to forget having a cock for the entire voyage, I'm sure it will work. And to answer your question, it normally takes one or two weeks to cross the sea if the winds hold and nothing bad happens."

The threat seemed to have had little effect on the captain, but that was not important as long as I made a statement. Two weeks was not an exceedingly long time, but it was still going to be bothersome, I had gotten sick of traveling by ship a long time ago.

As I made our way onto the deck following the tattooed sailor, I muttered to myself "At least the weather can always be changed if we see a storm brewing ahead."

10-15 minutes later once the captain had settled the bunking matter with the crew I was told that we will be leaving soon. I made my way onto the deck to see the bustling harbor one last time. The deck was no less busy of life than the harbor nearby. All the various crewmen setting themselves ready to set sail, the sight before me was not unlike ants on a branch hurrying along, everyone finding their own place.

I noticed another one of my companions on the deck also observing the scene before us. I made my way to her still wearing my traveling robes.

"Hi, ready for the challenge that awaits us?"

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

Quote:

"Hi, ready for the challenge that awaits us?"

"Oh, you know what we're doing?" I asked her - cheeky. "I think it'll work out. And it can't scare you."

The viking seemed alright. Relatively quiet, seeming sincere enough in her belief, almost reminding me of the nuns back home, were it not for the tattered edge around her I thought I felt, a kind of unkempt, raw, northernness. And she was rather conversant in enough of some Italian tongue that I understood her. It was a wonder that such a strange person had been found; perhaps she was picked up from the remains of the exodus from the Holy Land, along with our other two knights. Who knew? It seemed inappropriate to ask this early.

Eridis, Port of Messina, Ship

Quote:

Originally Posted by Sara

"Oh, you know what we're doing?" I asked her - cheeky. "I think it'll work out. And it can't scare you."

"That's good" I smiled. "I believe we all have a reason why we were chosen to be here and so what must come, will" I said solemnly while looking up at the sky.

The young brown girl Sara left a cheerful impression, there are not many who can remain sincerely cheerful when knowing they are probably heading into battle. But yet, her cheerfulness seemed real, almost infectious. I wonder what her reason was to be sent here on this journey.

"I wonder what the others of our little group are doing?"

Maude, Aboard the Ship

Without a worry for the world around her, Maude had found herself the most out of the way corner of the ship to sit down. It was almost time to depart, and with nothing else left to do, she was inspecting her arms and armor one last time. To an observer, though, it looked more like she was digging through a pile of junk.

Her weapons were at least in good condition. On one side, a long-hafted hammer with a head shaped like a shield-bearing angel. On the other side, a heavy iron dagger that looked more like a spike than anything intended for cutting. In the center, though, was an absolute mess. A disorganized pile of leather and mail sat in front of Maude, seemingly made of scraps taken from multiple sets of armor. It was all ruined beyond use, but some was a bit less damaged than the rest, and their owner was doing her best to sort out the most intact pieces.

Well, at least Maude had been sure to clean it all beforehand. It just wouldn't do to be smelly at the very start of a long journey, would it?

Alice Elizabeth de Warenne
Port of Messina, Ship

Overhearing Sara and Eridis conversing, Alice approached them and joined in cheerfully.

"I'm ready! The true cross will be standing proudly in St Peters Basilisca when we return!"

Having got their attention, she introduced herself.

"My name is Alice. Pleased to meet you. I must admit, I had expected our party to be filled with men more like Garnier, so I was surprised to see you all! Actually, I'm somewhat glad for the company. No offense to the Knight, of course."

Alice preferred simple introductions as opposed to listing titles, although anyone well versed in the Houses of Europe would have been likely to identify her by the distinctive ring she wore on her right hand.

She thought briefly about the two companions standing before her. A strong nordic fighter and a dark skinned woman, although from where she could not identify immediately.

"What brings you on this mission?"

Aliana

She calmly thought about the state of affairs. Everyone was in such a religious fervor, but she seemed to be… Well, not unenthusiastic, but she was far more nervous about everyone else. Perhaps travelling so far was a bad idea after all…

She turned to look at Garnier and the boy, who apparently could not handle his liquor well. Well, that was something she could help him build with time and effort! Having a drinking partner would make this trip a lot more bearable.

Aliana tapped Garnier on the shoulder and then looked at the boy. Falcknes or something.

“Are you nervous? I feel that… God has… put me in a position that may be beyond my own capabilities…”

She looked at the flask at her hip. Honestly, she didn’t have a problem. No, of course not. She would not be able to wield this blade if she had a problem. This was simply a test by God, to prove that she could give the greatest of drink to others without being overtly indulgent. Or something like that.

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

Quote:

Originally Posted by Alice

"What brings you on this mission?"

In a dour group, Alice was a breath of new air - occupied with God in her own way, but unlike... Garnier's, his name apparently was, deadly seriousness. A real flame, armor glittering in the morning.

"I was told that it would be something worth doing by an abbot I respect," I told her - a simple and true answer.

In this weather, her armor was cool but not cold - rough to touch from travel. There wasn't a point in asking her what she asked me: unlike her, in a sense, I wasn't natural here.

"Your sword is beautiful," I told her, remembering the graven silver in the sun. "You would actually fight with it?"

Eridis, Port of Messina, Ship

Quote:

Originally Posted by Sara

"You would actually fight with it?"

"I'm sure she would, swords are weapons after all" I remarked at the brown girl before Alice could answer.

"Nice to meet you Alice, I'm Eridis" I say to Alice offering my hand, while thinking about how I am pretty sure we went through this process when we first met up.

"I've been working for the church for awhile now doing odds and ends and so I was offered this opportunity, of course the greater why is because I was set on this path from the beginning no doubt."

Alice, another cheerful girl among us eight, it makes you wonder what she might be hiding behind that cheerful face, nevertheless truly god has seen fit to send a rather unorthodox group of people on his mission this time.

Theodora
Port of Messina

The deep rumble of activity echoed in the very timber of the ship. It seemed that with the ground rules established, the crew had no further interest in sticking around the peculiar group they were to host. As they went about their posts in preparation for the journey's start, so too did the Church's chosen scatter, off to loiter around the ship, either on the deck or in their cabins. The black-clad woman floated away from the table and the vessel's captain - who was now splitting his attention between a time-worn, yellowed map and intermittent mutterings-turned-curses towards his crew, his luck, or nothing in particular - drawing close to Knight Garnier, the still-teetering pageboy, and his flaxen-haired, wine-bearing temptress, already in conversation; or, as it seemed, attempting one, given Falcknes' continued lack of lucidity.

Quote:

“Are you nervous? I feel that… God has… put me in a position that may be beyond my own capabilities…”

"Ah, but for God to have presented you with this challenge, He must surely know that you possess the strength to fulfill His purposes," she cut in, picking up the cue from the girl's statement. "Or that you will come into it, in time."

GM

There was little in terms of announcements, and nothing at all that had of the celebratory, but half an hour after the party had stepped on board the ship Filioque quickly left the port of Messina, as a providential shifting of the winds had made the captain decide to not waste more time.

As the Italian coast disappeared everyone could feel the tension exuded by the sailors, for being directed to a corner of the sea where pirates could be less dangerous than regular navies; the men were precise and disciplined in their actions but they lacked spontaneity.

By common agreement the party retreated to the lower deck an hour or so after departure: novelty excitement can only last for so long and only Eridis possessed the kind of skills that could make her useful for the navigation anyway. The real reason was however the need to try and force some measure of order in their situation, pooling what meager information they had received with what Falcknes could remember now that he was sobering up.

- - -

Meanwhile an elder of the Church was on a carriage going back to Rome, trying as hard as possible to forget the events of the day. An unmitigated disaster, he would be lucky if nobody brought news of it at the next Papal election: "Pietro has decided to undercut Allah by gifting maidens to the heathen" would make the Curia prefer Caligula's horse over him.

The talk had taken them well past the setting of the sun: they had almost nothing to work on, but that was precisely the reason why they fine-combed through every detail. The results were a mixed bag: they really had nothing to work over with, but no camaraderie is more quickly forged than the one resultant from shared hopelessness and frustration.

Furthermore at least the linguistic barrier had been surpassed, once Falcknes was finally asked about the nature of the sacks of sand. The boy was uncharacteristically prepared on that front, saying that that "was the sand of the land of Babel, and that those who carried it took with it the remembrance of what had been lost". The entire ship, he added, had been sanctified with that sand, which was the reason why they could understand the sailors.

Apparently satisfied with himself for that show of efficiency, the German boy announced his desire to go to bed, leaving a trail of alcohol fumes and self-loathing behind him.
The others followed in turn, going in the section of the crew quarters that had been left to them just before the majority of the sailors too retreated for the night; the cohabitation would prove difficult even avoiding all the unnecessary contact after all.

Nobody present on that day would ever understand the significance of what they had contributed to create.
But everyone would soon realize the appropriateness of those terrible auspices...

To Be Continued...

GM

The ship had just finished crossing the strait between Peloponnesus and Crete when the first storm hit them.
The first part of the voyage had been tranquil, all things considered; a week or so of steady progression, with the winds that had accompanied their departure still on their backs; the occasional friction with the crew always promptly resolved by the first mate; the addressing of at least some of the complications they would encounter in their travels thanks to Falcknes' cooperation .
It was late at night, and it came and left with the violence and unexpectedness of the storms that were said to happen only on the other side of Gibraltar: by the time the party had finished their hurried dressing up and reached the deck everything was finished already.
The only leftovers were the carpenter’s and the butcher’s bill: a sail made unusable, its tree-mast almost broken and five men lost at se. The captain was beyond himself with rage for the sheer unfairness of the whole situation and nobody from the party was able to get a fully coherent sentence from him for the rest of the night.
Those who wanted stayed up for the night, helping the sailors in the repairs; maybe their contributions were little but even that could help and the men were appreciative of the show of support.

- - -

But not enough, as it turned out: the voyage hadn’t been stopped since the Captain had judged the damage to the ship acceptable and not in need of a docking at Crete, but nobody could forget.
Already the day after the storm the first whispers were flowing everywhere and the subject was as obvious as it could be: it was bad luck to have a womanat board, it was God’s generosity that they hadn’t been sank yet for carrying seven, and they were running out of time.
As usual the first mate took care of them as soon as he noticed them, but now his authority was proving inadequate for getting rid of the complaints.

The party started being seen less around, reducing the number of their meals with the Captain, and once spending the entire day in their improvised quarters.

- - -

They has passed Crete, now entering the waters controlled by the Principality of Cilicia, a Christian refuge created by the persecuted Armenians, and the last relatively safe part of the sea voyage before they approached waters where Islamic galleys would be far too likely.

The return of the storm laid to rest that preoccupation, when it came just as sudden as the first time, except now during the afternoon. Because of the timing the party was directly caught in it, and they all could stare in disbelief and suspicion as a sunny and clear sky was turning pitch black and violent in what felt like heartbeats.

Maude was one of the worst hit, almost getting thrown out in the sea by the brusque movements of the ship and it was only Gerard’s quick intervention that managed to keep her on board.
For the rest however the second storm was a greater disaster than the first one: a full half of the oars had been damaged before they could get pulled in, another sail had received grave slashes and seven more sailors had ended up as offerings to the sea gods.

Barely an hour after the end of the storm the party received a call from the Captain, relayed by the first mate: they were summoned to his cabin, immediately and without exceptions.

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm
Levantine Sea

It was pleasant to be at sea. Mornings would be the same: wake up among the bustling of the changing of the watch, take bread with the others. For the first few days, I tried to help with taking in the ropes and other morning work, but it was made subtly clear to me that it was certainly not my job. So I repaired a sail once in a while - but after that? Nothing.

I sat on the prow, laid along the sides, stood on the back, taking every position that I could on the ship to look at the horizon, which was truly a fantastic thing. Near to land, you saw it begin to fade to white before you even saw the coast - on the other side, to ocean, a rich blue; but not on stormy days, when it was iron. Ten thousand colors, all of which in combination let you read the geography, the weather, the very mood of nature just by seeing the blue. I'd hardly spent a better week, doing but a single thing.

Inexplicably, though, the horizon failed, and what had almost seemed like reading the mind of God suddenly closed and turned frantic, as a storm coalesced. A few candles flickered below decks, lighting the great space only dimly as water seeped through inadequate oar-hole covering. There were noticeably fewer sailors than there were benches for rowers: they were huddled, whispers drowned out by the heaving of wood warped by water.

So it was, that when we were ordered to join the captain, I brought all of my belongings, save none.

Eridis, Levantine Sea, Ship

The storm had come out of nowhere, may I have missed the obvious signs, if only I had known this disaster could have been avoided. These were the things I was thinking about as I made my way to the captain's cabin.

The ship was in poor condition and the talk among the sailors had gotten more worrisome by the day. "We should have probably docked at Crete after the first storm" I said to no one in particular.

However the storms did not feel natural, while the sailors are blaming these sudden disasters on their own superstitions, I muse myself with the thought that this might've been the work of magic, not much unlike what I could do myself. If so, 'our misfortune' is not over yet.

I knew this was something I had to bring up with the others during this impromptu meeting.

GM

The walk to the cabin happened silently and wherever they passed the repair works temporarily stopped, not even the presence of the first mate apparently sufficient to enforce that minimum of discipline.

The cabin had a less suffocating atmosphere by a few degrees, the difference made only by the numbers: all men at sea live in superstition and fear, but an individual is more controlled than a crowd.

"I've made arrangements for the preparation of a raft and provisions for a full week", the Captain said with a cold and professional tone of voice. "You should be able to arrive to both Cyprus and Tyre within that time."

Garnier de Nablus
Levantine Sea

Garnier tapped his fingers on his thigh, in deep thought. He could survive the journey by sea, maybe. He'd even try to swim if he had to, but even taking his larger than average chances, the knight could not bring himself to bear against the might of the sea, of God. That would be folly of the highest order. Listening to the intensity of the wind raging around them, he spoke to the Captain.

"You wish to put us to sea, on a simple raft, in this weather... you want us to die, is that it, Captain?"

The knight's fingers had stilled, and he was staring at the other man with an intense gaze. Not angry, or disappointed, but clouded. He was fairly sure he knew what the answer would be, and that they wouldn't have a choice but to accept it. None of them knew, to his knowledge, how to sail. He certainly didn't, and not in this weather.

GM

"Not at all, I want you away from this ship precisely so that no one else will have to die. Yourself included".
The Captain's tone was this time mixed with something that vaguely resembled sorrow, if not regret.
"It was already a miracle surviving to two storms, and convincing the lads to wait before throwing you out with irons at your feet. Let's not ask too much to the Lord."

Aliana

“Mmmm…” Aliana said, an actual form of noncommittal statement. Well, the sailors did have a right to be worried, but weren’t they on a mission for the Church? Regardless of the case, it didn’t really matter much. If they wanted her to stay on a raft, she would do it!

Or maybe that was the alcohol talking. During the storm she had drunk her ass off and was really hoping nobody would notice. The slur in her speech was probably pretty bad, so she hadn’t even tried to talk.

“Whaddif you… well, we gots all those miracles or someshing, I mean. I’mma just check outside and um… see if maybe we could fake some sign ‘er somethin’. God gave us the tools we need, right? And I gots the wine, so if you guys could… do something ‘bout the rest, errything’ll be fine.”

With that horribly uninspiring statement, Aliana decided to temporarily leave the Captain’s cabin so she could look at the waves and try to figure out if she could make some more alcohol. Or hurl. She wasn’t very good with ships.

GM

A testament to his not-so-noble roots, the Captain had understood perfectly the inebriated words of the cute drunk, but his reply was still less than enthusiastic.

"These men...", he said as the last of the daylight entered through the now opened door, "...aren't of the church-going variety. They might like yer fancy tricks, aye, but 's just as likely that they'd take arms. Just sayin', but if they're calling you witches doing that kind of crap might be dangerous."

- - -

Aliana would have probably thanked her altered state had she been in a condition to do it, as her merry return to the deck to... think on things wasn't ruined by the realization of the stares that were directed at her.

Only the just arrived Falcknes seemed happy to see her, as he called her to the port side of the ship and pointed to the clear sky: "I've never been so happy to see a rainbow, I swear to God. What are you discussing inside?"

The voyage had been quite healthy for the boy, he seemed to have grown a full inch and for all his Nordic ancestry the strong Sun had been kind to his skin.

Aliana

“Hiya, Falcknes. Rainbow shure is naish.” Aliana sort of blankly stared at the rainbow, as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. It probably was at that moment, from that drunken and wasted perspective. The fact that he asked a question after mentioning the rainbow barely registered in her mind, so it took her almost a few minutes to regain the focus needed to answer.

“Uhmmm, sh’nothin’. Not too much ‘ta be worried about.” She looked around, noticing that everyone was staring at her with a weird look. She had gotten that weird look plenty of times, and she knew the best way to fix it.

“Erryone looks so down… I’m only good ‘fer drinks, but I think they make people happy. Anyone up for some?”

Alice Elizabeth de Warenne
Port of Messina, Ship

"A raft? I think there has been some kind of mistake. His Holiness Clement III personally assured me that I would be given safe passage to Tyre. Of course, you merely mis-spoke when you said that the raft journey would take a full week, correct? You meant that you would deliver us to the port within a week."

Alice addressed the captain in her usual cheery tone, but it was underlined with something rather more sinister.

GM

At that outburst, the Captain seemed to lose a bit of his composure and his words became quick and clipped.

"Yes, I meant precisely a raft, because the Holy Father isn't here and instead of him we have a few dozens of angry, scared men who haven't gotten laid in days to boot."
"I'm trying to save your skin, lady".

- - -

There can be no greater mercy than silence, as not even the angriest of the sailors answered to Aliana's offer: all the men had their drunken experiences and they knew how that stuff went. Who would have thought that witches got drunk too?

Falcknes was again the exception as he rushed to the bottle with all the enthusiasm of the newly converted to the joys of drinking.

Theodora

Trust sailors to fall back to superstition once something unexpected happens, attributing the unassailable disaster to physical, tangible things, so that they might earn a little peace of mind by getting rid of them. It was truly a wonder how empires had been built since the dawn of man through naval prowess, with oafs like these manning the posts; and for all the captain's early concerns about pirates, how was throwing the passengers into the storm with only a small dinky any different of a behaviour than that of his less morally scrupulous brethren?

Lying to them doesn't help on the matter, was Theodora's thought when she took upon herself the task of sparing their group an untimely watery grave.

"You're right, captain. Deception cannot be said to truly convince someone, only to muddle their thoughts so that they do not know left from right, and are thus more susceptible to influence. It is all the more ineffective when, as it is with your men, someone is indisposed to believe in the first place; or, as is the case right now," and here her voice took a darker hue, "when you simply know better than to be deceived."

Moving towards the captain's workbench, she unfurled the map left upon it, and pinned her finger at a point in the middle of the Levantine Sea.

"'Between Cyprus and Tyre', you said. This is where we should be, if your words are to be believed, far from land in all directions. And yet, two nights ago a light could be seen from the deck to the north, a light that doesn't quite fit within the geography you specified."

Theodora lifts her eyes from the map, and looks the captain straight in the eye. "Now we may simply have greatly deviated from our course in between the storms, but I am willing to bet that you are not telling us the truth, captain. In fact, were I to take into account the time that has elapsed since we passed Crete, I'd say that the light was in fact coming from the stone lighthouse of Attaleia; quite a ways from where you have professed." Each sentence was drawn out, practically dripping with sarcasm, and her finger jabbed onto the dot on the map that signified Attaleia with the suddenness of a knife being thrust.

"Now I am not going to go into the ramifications of stranding the agents of the Church, who you were paid to assist in their holy mission; I will simply appeal to your common sense. Your ship had clearly seen better days after the first storm, but now it's a miracle that it even stays afloat. You've lost quite a few men as well; if a storm hits you again, with or without women on the ship, the chances of enduring it for a third time are rather unfavourable."

Her long, glove-covered finger tapped on the dot on the map in an emphatic rhythm.

"While we are, of course, grateful for your 'mercy', we will not be left out to die at sea, and you sailing on in this condition will be foolishly tempting fate. Thus, my mutually benefiting proposition is this: make for the port of Attaleia before this ship, and all your crew, go the way of Jonah, and leave us there to continue our journey by other means. I think you'll find this to be a most logical solution to our little conundrum."

GM

Throughout the tirade the captain's face remained immobile as a stone and only at the end of it the man let out a short bark of laughter.
"Figures, the one time I bullshit on the geography it's also the time that someone calls me on it. As you wish, let's be honest here."

At that there was another, now almost predictable, shift in the man's mood as his voice gained a tone heavy as lead.
"It's true, you're right, from where we are it shouldn't take more than two days to reach Attaleya. But we don't have that much time, the tempers are ready to explode and I'm not ready to see a mutiny from the wrong side of it."

At that point the man got up from his seat, slowly turning his back to the party to face one of the small semi-transparent windows of the cabin.

"It's a shitty affair, no disagreement here. The ship ain't gonna last a third one, that much I can see by myself. But I can't do anything about that, and if it happens it's only God's will."
"On the other hand keeping you is just as destructive, but it's also something that I can avoid."

Eridis, Captain’s Quarters

While my companions were trying to convince the captain not to throw us off the boat, I was in silent thought.

If the storms were caused by someone magical trying to stop us from reaching our destination, then we wouldn’t want to continue this journey on boat anyway, but being stranded on a raft would be even worse. The smart course of action would be to go back to Attaleia and find a different mode of transportation from there and see if this someone tried to stop us in another manner.

I could guarantee that no storms happened on our trip back to Attaleia, but revealing that to the captain or the crew would only end in accusations that I caused the first two storms to begin with and besides there is no reason for them to believe me.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Captain

"It's a shitty affair, no disagreement here. The ship ain't gonna last a third one, that much I can see by myself. But I can't do anything about that, and if it happens it's only God's will."
"On the other hand keeping you is just as destructive, but it's also something that I can avoid."

"Captain, and what do you suppose you and your men are going to do when you get back and the church finds out we never made it to our mission, that we instead went missing before we ever got there and the captain of our vessel had decided to return early."

"Now I understand your position, but we absolutely can’t be left on a raft here, if you took us back to Attaleia we could send a message saying that due to the weather we had to stop and continue our journey by land and you don’t risk a lynching from the church on your trip back. Trust me it’s in your best interest to get us back to Attaleia rather than strand us here"

GM

Eridis was the last one to speak for minutes, her words apparently hitting the captain in a more effective fashion than those that had come before.

By the time he opened his mouth again the man seemed to have aged by a solid two decades and his voice carried all his frustration and tiredness: "It is as you say, I fear. Roma would have a hard time accepting my actions, even if I called you witches and had everyone agree with me: the old man would see to it."

A short, bitter laugh. "I wish that I was a young man again, I would just drop you and turn pirate, but I'm too old to make friends with this sea that I do not understand."

"So be it, hear my last offer and know that you won't get a better one. You will get in that bloody raft, because blood will flow otherwise, but the ship will tow you until we reach Cyprus and, yes, I said Cyprus because I've had disagreements there in Cylicia. You shall not want for food, water and provisions, and in three days we should arrive if so God wills it.
You may have the man of your group stay here on the ship and guard that no crewman decides to cut the cable to the raft."

"Deal?", he asked without making it sound like a question.

Garnier de Nablus
Levantine Sea

The knight, still frowning at Theodora's explanation and the reveal of the captain's deceit, pushed himself off of the cabin wall, speaking with gritted teeth.

"I cannot speak for the thoughts of my compatriots, but I will preform my duties."

Clearly unhappy, but accepting of the unfavorable situation, Garnier waited for the voices of his fellow 'soldiers' to pitch in. As long as they managed to arrive, the position they were in could change. He would do his best to protect his new companions, that he could promise.

Iliana Selene Ante-Alexandria

There were many things she could have, perhaps should have, said or done before it got to this point, but frankly the whole situation was ridiculous in itself; why were those men some random sailors who knew nothing except perhaps how to poorly handle a ship at sea? The Church should have, at the least, delivered a competent crew in return for the considerable trouble she was going through at their behest. Or failing that, at least pay the men enough to shut their mouths. But no, incompetents and useless it was; in hindsight she should have stopped them from reaching any stupid conclusion, but it was perhaps a slight late now.

She had thought that the help would handle the situation, but clearly not; they were equally useless. Clearly whatever they had been hired for, it wasn't their wit or ability to solve problems. One of them was even agreeing! What kind of holy warriors - or at least allegedly warriors, allegedly holy - where there people? Perhaps if she just burned the captain a little...but no, she had to admit that she didn't know how to row a boat or whatever it was either, because that was for the help - useless and apparently mentally incapacitated help, in this case.

"I am willing to entertain it if it's a matter of insufficient remuneration for the trouble you face, but I'll not be spending a day on a raft while there's a ship, captain."

And if that meant the useless drunkards had to burn and they missed their destination by a few miles, well that was a price she was willing to pay.

Theodora

Quote:

"I am willing to entertain it if it's a matter of insufficient remuneration for the trouble you face, but I'll not be spending a day on a raft while there's a ship, captain."

There seemed to be no end to the impasse, and it would serve no good for tempers to flare and risk getting tossed into the sea without even a vessel to hang on to - or worse. Theodora quickly cut in after the girl's - Iliana, she recalled - words, before the captain had time to consider whether his perceived generosity was ill-appreciated by his erstwhile clientele.

"Ἡρέμει, Ἡλιάνα," she spoke to the girl in Greek, hoping it would come through to her anger.

"I can see when someone isn't willing to take another step back, captain," she said to the man. "What you're offering us is degrading, dangerous, and an infringement on our agreement, but it's the best that we can get in this situation. I will make this clear to the rest of my companions."

"For that, I only ask of you that you let us stay the night on the ship. See, the sun has already set, and some of us are not yet accustomed to both the cold and the idea of spending a winter night in exposure. Give us a night to prepare, and then we will clear out your vessel."

She dearly hoped her companions would catch up on her trail of thought.

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm

That we had been lied to at first should have been reason to doubt everything there, including the crew's alleged feelings. But I couldn't see that behind the much nore present vision of seven on a rowboat, shielded from a large ocean by a small few planks of wood. And what other options were there? The Law was only obligatory out into forever, not for the present moment; that was determined by more basic force, and there were over a hundred of them.

With some barely disguised emotion, I gave my support to a delay, to keep another night. Which would doubtlessly be occupied somewhat frantically trying to avoid death.

Oh father, thou art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Deliver us into light
Your son who denies evil

GM

A new storm, albeit a less literal one, seemed to be crossing the captain's face, as it darkened the man's visage and moved creases and wrinkles like angry waves. However even this one came at its end, and with that the man spoke again.

"So be it, you have this night. You won't leave your quarters, and my men won't bother you. And nothing else will happen, or the Saracens will be the least of your worries."

This said he moved to leave the room, while gesturing to the others to follow him outside.
Their return to the deck brought a new wave of nervous silence with it, as the eyes of all but the predictably drunk were watching with care their every gesture, and no one seemed to have anything to say before his captain spoke.

- - -

It took a hour of tense arguing before the deal was accepted by the crew, and even a fool could see the antipathy felt by the captain for the need to bargain with his own men, but eventually apathy and inertia won over fear and the "raft plan" was put in hold for the morning, while the ship would keep sailing through the night at full speed. In the captain's own enlightened words "break your fucking back if it means ending this earlier".

Meanwhile the party was ordered to get back to their cabins, with three armed guards posted at both sides of the door.

Alice Elizabeth de Warenne
Ship's Cabin

This adventure had already slightly gone off the rails - the glorious journey to the Holy Land aboard a shining Crusade ship wasn't exactly as expected. But that was all part of the fun of travel!

"Stuck in this dusty cabin all night? Hmmph. That's no way to waste a sea journey! I should go out and explain our situation to the sailors personally.

What do you think, ladies?"

Theodora

In that dusty room, much too small to comfortably house nine people, tempers were flickering and flaring as much as the candle that lent the only source of light to their impromptu conference. Or rather, strategy meeting, even if the blissfully oblivious knight-maiden gave it her unknowing best to lift the heavy mood that permeated the cabin.

Behind steepled fingers, Theodora gave the girl a deferential nod, her stone-like expression lending no hints as to whether that was a gesture of mockery or acknowledgement. Likewise, her words were inflectionless, bereft of verbal ornaments meant to beguile or misdirect. At that moment, they were quite literally on the same boat.

"Thank you Alice, though I hope our fellow knight and page will have an opinion to add to the matter as well. That being...well," and here she lifted a small pouch, placing it in the center of the table around which their hapless band was gathered, "we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves, should we?"

Untying the knot that held the pouch sealed, she poured it's contents on the table; grains of sand spilled out of it, the very same that was stored in the sacks somewhere on the vessel. Dividing the small hill into even portions, she gestured to her comrades to each claim one for themselves.

"It is truly fortunate that I took the liberty of taking a sample of our cargo. In this moment, we cannot be cautious enough," she said, and waited until everyone held a bit of sand in the palm of their hands. Then, words intoned in the Alexandrian dialect filled the chamber.

"When planning, it is said that one must always assume the worst. Applying this adage to missions of a holy nature, where the worthiness of the participants is traditionally tested by trials and obstacles, one can say that our current situation was unavoidable— nay, an integral part of our quest."

"Be that as it may, it is also said that fortune favours the bold. I ask of you to keep that in mind while I outline our options."

Shifting from her slouched position, she separated her hands, lifting her index finger to denote the first possibility.

"One, we swallow our pride, take what we are given, and consign ourselves to some cold, miserable nights, uncertain if the rising sun will find us yet breathing, or resting in the bottom of the sea".

"Two," a second finger joined the first. "We think of new angles with which to plead to the captain's sensibilities - whether they be compassion, greed, lust, the fear of God, or that of cold steel on his throat - and pray for his merciful succor. Needless to say, you may have observed that the captain is still but one man, and that it is his crew's delicate dispositions that have put us in this position in the first place."

A heavy silence filled the pause until the third finger rose. The swaying candlelight threw long shadows on the walls, and on Theodora's face.

"Three," she said, with a voice as cold as a naked knife. "We confiscate this vessel in the name of the Lord, crew willing or otherwise."

Maude

The conversation in the Captain's cabin was a long one, and Maude only listened to parts. Having grown up answering most questions with an immediate "yes", debating was not her strong suit, even if she knew the words. The old priest at Messina was something else, just a bump in the road as far as she was concerned, while the Captain held some real power here. So Maude left the arguing to her companions, and spent the time pondering the situation. Was it some witch trying to keep the ship from the Holy Land, a trial from God meant to be overcome... or was it truly His will that the party not make landfall?

There was no way to be sure, but Maude believed the group had been brought together for a reason, and nodded in silent agreement while the other women argued for everything they could.

---

The situation had improved a little, at least, but not hardly enough. One night of rest before the group was exiled to the raft to be towed along towards Cyprus. Luckily, they were not helpless, and Theodora at least had made preparations. Maude carefully gathered the few pinches of sand set aside for her and leaned forward to make her thoughts known, the dim candlelight doing no favours for her sunken features and withered hair.

"There's not a single good path for us, is there? Even if no more storms come by to ruin us all, trusting a raft on the open sea is madness. The captain is not likely to give in to further arguments, either, but he's not the real problem here. He seems to be a fairly reasonable man being forced to make hard decisions - it's the crew that are causing trouble." The woman let out a sigh at the group's predicament, seemingly at a loss. It was clear that she found none of the options to be worth taking. "I can say nothing about the rest of you, but I don't believe I could do anything to make peace with them."

"We could take the ship by force, no doubt. I might even be able to do it alone. But unless one of you is keeping important secrets, we can't manage the ship ourselves. What would we have to break to force the crew's compliance, and how badly?"

Aliana

Aliana listened to the words of her fellow crew members. For once, she was not nursing a bottle, but that didn’t matter. She was trying to put her brain at work, no doubt.

“Maude has a point, does she not? If we use force, we won’t be able to commandeer this ship and no doubt the sailors will hate us even more. If they all die and drown, so do we. The lot of you seem rather vain, to be frank, and patience, humility, and temperance are all virtues.” Rather, from her experience at the beginning of the voyage, where she’d managed to get along with a small selection of the sailors, she felt that they were, above all else, ordinary people. People had a right to be afraid of what they did not know—wasn’t that why the rest of her family dabbled in witchcraft? To know more?

So, in the end, she could not fault them for being afraid.

“If we use violence to oust them, then we are no better than the witches they claim us to be. Perhaps God gave us this test to see our true moral character, and if that is the case, I will not raise a hand against God fearing Christians because they are concerned for their own safety. Certainly, we have to figure out a way to avoid being on a raft, but… we are not real followers of the faith if we are so quick to use force, are we not?”

Aliana got up from her chair in the corner, tossed down her sword, and went up to the guards, hands clearly raised. A symbol of surrender.

“Do any of you speak French? Regardless, please tell your captain that some of us are getting rather impatient, and that if we could have a discussion with him, it would be well appreciated. I apologize for their shady conduct, but they, like yourselves, are scared of what may come in the future… It would be dishonest of me to say that we are acting like proper agents of the Church, and for that, I am sorry.”

She curtsied and decided to move her chair next to the guards, leaving her sword behind. No alcohol, no weapon, only herself, in her tired, somewhat vulnerable gait. She was slightly hung over, and while she had decent skill in hiding the symptoms, it was much easier to sit down.

“Now, if any of you would enjoy holding a proper conversation, perhaps about our destination or anything you please, it would be well appreciated.”

Placing her hands in her lap, Aliana leaned back in her chair, taking a glance at the wooden ceiling above.

She wished she was sober when she saw that rainbow—she would definitely imagine it more vividly.

Eridis

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife or so it seemed to me at the time as we were discussing what to do about our predicament. The captain inadvertedly stopped me from being able to perform rituals that would stop any more storms from happening by placing guards inside the cabin with us. This could spell doom for the entire ship if we were faced with another sudden storm. The entire scene was rather disconcerting.

Quote:

"We could take the ship by force, no doubt. I might even be able to do it alone. But unless one of you is keeping important secrets, we can't manage the ship ourselves. What would we have to break to force the crew's compliance, and how badly?"

Taking a seat on one of the chairs in the cabin.

"Yeah, the real problem here is that if we get rid of the crew none of us can actually sail this ship, but besides that there is an additional problem we have to think about. I am sure the rest of you have also thought about the rather freaky storms that happened. Well I don’t think the sailors are that off the mark blaming witchcraft, but I don't think it’s any of us at fault obviously. It might be a good idea to proceed on land in general, but it would be much preferable if the captain took us to the next port before we had to resort to that."

Quote:

"If we use violence to oust them, then we are no better than the witches they claim us to be. Perhaps God gave us this test to see our true moral character, and if that is the case, I will not raise a hand against God fearing Christians because they are concerned for their own safety. Certainly, we have to figure out a way to avoid being on a raft, but… we are not real followers of the faith if we are so quick to use force, are we not?"

Aliana's strong words reminded me of who I am. Was a little discomfort and foolery from seamen all it took for me to fall back into my old habits? I calm down from my previous rather tense attitude.

"I agree, I don’t think we should kill every sailor on the ship. If we can’t persuade them to take us to the closest port, I say we just go there on foot, I feel it’s safer than taking the raft in any case."

Garnier de Nablus

Garnier cracked his neck, sighing. Both he and Falcknes had been stuck in a room with the rest of his compatriots, guarded by heavily armored sailors, and now, with a vague look of disapproval, he was treated to a plan for a mutiny. Only after Aliana spoke did the sole man speak up again, eyes very carefully watching the guards.

"That's right. In fact, I completely agree with you, Lady Aliana, especially with your mention of temperance." Very clearly, but gently reproaching her constant drinking, the knight played with the sand in his hands, watching the grains slip through his fingers to fall into the cupped palm below.

"I can't sail a ship, and I don't think any of you can, either, as Lady Maude has said. Furthermore, there are more of them then there of us, and I don't want to start a fight, not in the name of God that we carry with us on this task."

“Now, if any of you would enjoy holding a proper conversation, perhaps about our destination or anything you please, it would be well appreciated.”

"Yes, about that – when did you become a knight, Lady Aliana? Or are you still in training?"

Garnier was genuinely curious. He had assumed all of the members of his team would be knights, and men as well, though it seems fate had other plans in store. All the same, he wanted to know a little more about his compatriots; whether he could trust all of them, as much as he desired otherwise, was still left to chance.

Aliana

Quote:

"Yes, about that – when did you become a knight, Lady Aliana? Or are you still in training?"

“Lady? I don’t deserve that title, I’m afraid. Ah, you see, I ran away from home when I was ten—a tad too late in starting knightly training. The Church took pity on me, and took me in, but as I am now, I’m hardly much of a knight. A page perhaps, or a squire without a knight.”

She sighed, remembering her old family. To be honest, they were already gone when she fled. As soon as they realized she had left, no doubt that had easily made it for the hills and ran off to who knows where. Not that it mattered. Her family may have been magicians, but they were tactful enough.

“My sword hand is improvised, to be honest. I would turn to someone else if you wanted someone with more knightly qualities.” She laughed, eyeing her blade on the other side of the room. Garnier was right to call her out on that, even if it did sting.

“And you, dear sir?”

Garnier de Nablus

"It was a struggle. I was born farther away from the Holy Land, and I was... involved, you could say, in a group of leftover Crusaders. I was rescued when they failed by the Knights Hospitaller, and they brought me into their Order."

The blond was in thought, remembering the village that he had last seen on fire, burning with the frenzy of the Lord. He hadn't understood it at the time – even now, even though he knew he had been... saved, it still tugged at his heart. Garnier shook his head.

"They gave me a purpose I didn't have at the time, and eventually I was stationed in Nablus... I earned my knighthood right before that."

“My sword hand is improvised, to be honest. I would turn to someone else if you wanted someone with more knightly qualities.”

Garnier looked at her, considering. It was a moment before he spoke, but he was clearly weighing out his words, choosing as carefully as possible.

"I think, sometimes, those who believe they could not be a knight are the ones most suited to it. Don't give up on the dream you chose," The knight coughed, delicately. There had been some pressure on him from his commander to take a page, and, well, Garnier had always wanted to shake things up, at least a little. He hadn't even considered it before, but now, as he looked at Aliana, he was clearly thinking of it.

"You know, when a knight gets to be a certain age, some would say he should take a page. Certainly, it would be a good idea, but he – or she," Garnier hastily injected. "Would only choose someone they thought had potential."

The blond man scratched the back of his head, a bit of a nervous habit that he had developed after years of overseeing the tumultuous city of Nablus. In all honesty, he had never thought he would be saying this to a woman, but... something about her invoked some sympathy, more than he would normally feel.

"Would you like to learn how to wield a sword?"

Aliana

“Would I? I-I’d love to, really...” Aliana tried to contain a squeal, which only ended up being so-so, even aided by the hang over. Learning how to properly use a sword had always been something she wished she could do—not merely for practical reasons, but also because she had always wanted to be a knight. Knights defended others, she had remembered reading, and it was this lofty goal that she had devoted herself to. Something to redeem her innately demonic nature. “If you have the time to spare, I mean... I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Fiddling with her fingers, Aliana stared at the wooden floor of the ship. Accepting such an offer, especially at a time like this, almost felt a bit selfish. But there really wouldn’t be another opportunity like it...

Alice

Listening to Aliana and Garnier, Alice began thinking.

To tell the truth, she'd never used a sword in a real fight either. Or been in any kind of fight whatsoever, for that matter. Nevermind. It was in her blood to be a warrior when the time came.

It seemed the room was bristling for action of some kind, but no one wished to be the first to take action.

Alice leant in closely over the table.

"You're right - it's the crew that we truly need to worry about. I'm going to try to reason with the Captain one last time. If reason fails, we take the ship by force. A hundred ragtag sailors cannot stand against the army of God."

Standing up from her chair, she pulled out a small scroll from her belt and walked over to the door, holding it open in front of her.

"I am Alice De Warrene, Countess of Surrey.

I represent the Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem on diplomatic business. I wish to speak to the Captain immediately.

Let me pass."

Theodora

...hah, what a comedy this was turning out to be.

The premise was already as good as it could get. An assassin, a nun, a barbarian, a little girl, an aristocrat, and some knights of mostly uniform piety and wildly variable sobriety board a ship, joining their powers to journey to the Holy Land and strike back at the heathens in the name of the Lord. An excellent cast to deploy the full array of jeering satire and stereotypes that the masses lap up, if she could say so herself.

The writer's sense of irony must have been especially well-honed, for the exciting force itself was a wonderful touch in that direction; imagine that, the group that would carry the flag of Christendom into the heart of darkness in a holy pilgrimage, being accused of witchcraft! And in that dire moment, counting the hours of their final night with each flicker of a single candle, a splendid absurdity would ensure. The drunkard would soberly dispense wisdom, the barbarian would show concern for human life, the fledgling countess would suggest negotiations and slaughter in the same breath, and the knights would trade sword fighting tips while their fate hung in the balance; it was a kind of farcical scenario that one would expect to see in an Aristophanian play, and that was what made it all the more depressive.

Now she understood the Cardinal's resigned disdain. But she had already cast her lot with this absurdity.

"If you want to brave the sea in that small vessel, then who am I to stop you. But since I don't feel like testing the limits of Divine Providence, I doubt I'll be joining you in independently making for shore, unless you have some kind of way for an overcrowded boat to stay afloat in a storm," she said with eyes closed, lightly massaging her temples to alleviate a lurking headache. "Likewise, the captain will hardly be persuaded to change his mind at this point, when he already feels he's made significant concessions in the face of ungratefulness."

"And as for the other option, I can only admire your composed logic and steadfast convictions, Brother and Sisters. And though my heart resonates to your virtuous words, I would be remiss if I did not bring up a certain thought I have, one I have had the misfortune of experiencing first-hand."

She opened her eyes, and addressed the mismatched company with the smile of a mother advising her young daughter; or rather, the mockery of one.

"Many times, life will call you to act in the face of necessity, to accede in deference of a opposing force or rise against it. And indeed, the natural reaction of human and animals alike is to to give way; to back down, and become invisible. It is a wonderful mechanism of self-preservation, but when it comes to humans, with their beliefs and convictions, it is more appropriate to call it a compromise, both with the opposing force and with yourself."

"Thinking that it's all going to be alright, you stay silent. Preaching soothing moralities to your ego, you give ground instead of fighting for your own sake. That's the sort of attitude that conformism is."

Catching the gaze of the small girl whose appearance belied her earlier outburst for a moment, her eyes and smile are just a bit too narrow.

"But eventually you'll run out of ground to give. And when you only have the sheer cliff-drop at your back, you can only regret."

GM

Tension supersedes linguistic barriers, and the captain had not chosen the deaf for the guarding task.
In the few minutes that had passed since the Greek woman's overture the three men had unfailingly noticed the mood that her words had spread; and by silent signals between them they had made delicate movements towards their weapons, only the desire to avoid bloodshed if possible stopping them from giving the alarm.

The party's appeal for another meeting with the captain came abrupt like a summer shower, for everything they were expecting by that point other than an invite to diplomacy.
The leader of the three, a burly Nordic with a few missing fingers, listened to the noblewoman's appeal and sent one of the others to the captain while never taking his eyes off them.

- - -

History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce. Members of the party could have been credited for that citation centuries in advance, when the captain came to them.
That it might have been the change in the location, or in the timing, or the lack of all his regalia, the man seemed to have lost that charge of authority that he had a few hours before.
Now he only looked like an innkeeper unwilling to do overtime.

"Saints above, what now? Leaving us so soon?"
No one could say if the last part held more irony or hope.

Alice

"Captain; I'm glad that you came.

I must ask you one more time to allow us to remain on the ship, for your sake as well as ours. From a practical standpoint, you have already lost men and the ship can scarcely survive another storm. You could do with extra hands in an emergency.

Your men think us witches, but we are far from it. Sisters, Warriors, Knights, but not witches. We are on a mission from the Holy Church and it is imperative we reach the Holy Land without delay. Your doubt will be the death of us all. As it is said in James 1:6, 'he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.' By helping us, you are helping yourselves! Our Mission is God's own!

If you cannot convince the men, assemble them and let us speak to them personally."

Alice looked wide-eyed at the Captain as a momentary silence fell.

Garnier de Nablus

Garnier, the same knight who had agreed with Aliana only minutes prior, quietly leaned towards Theodora. While he tried to be optimistic, the blonde knight harbored no illusions about human nature. He had seen enough to know otherwise.

"Lady Theodora."

A whisper-like voice drew no notice, no attention away from Alice's impassioned plea. The knight had barely even moved his mouth to begin with.

"If it comes to the worst, none of the sailors should be killed."

It was... optimistic, yes, and foolish. Garnier knew that there was, in all likelihood, a very large chance that the captain's final conversation would end in violence, but even so, he desired no blood to be shed. He owed his Order to see it through to that, at least.

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm
Levantine Sea

Quote:

Originally Posted by Garnier

"If it comes to the worst, none of the sailors should be killed."

"What else is going to happen!?"

In the end for me, fear won out. If the captain got his way, it was a death sentence.

"And they know it too! They know that what they fear is survivable but that will kill us given the chance. This is pagan; we're being put out for their sailor gods like virgins before a battle," I said, recalling an old story I had once heard. "Garnier." I shook him by the shoulders, trying to break through the knight armor. "They're going to put us out to death. Exposure!"

"What else are we supposed to do?"

Garnier de Nablus

Garnier's hand was firm as he placed it on the shoulder of the girl rapidly approaching hysterics, holding her in place with a strength that belied even his frame. The knight didn't have an answer right away, but as he leaned down to look into the girl's eyes, he tried to call forth the inner strength that rested in him, what had kept him alive when he was only a boy, and driven him through the Holy Land and then Italy and back again.

"What else can we do but wait? If it comes... if it comes to violence, then we will uphold the name of God. Mercy, and compassion, even to those who would not show it in turn. I promise you this: I will not let us be turned aside from our course, nor set aside to to whims of the sea."

The knight tried to convey the strength of the conviction within him to the panicking Sister, reassuring her as best as he could. Admittedly, he had always fought better than he talked, but as he had grown older he had seen the true need for diplomacy. Still, if it came to it... Garnier's eyes hardened.

No sailor would lay a hand on his unwilling companions, not while the knight still stood.

GM

What could change your mind? What would you need to be forced to reassess your vision of how things are?
There are people who live their lives in modesty and self-deprecation, all too easy to be swayed by convincing words. Some might even call them cowardly spirits, and yet the wise have often applauded their sense of dimensions, and ability to trust in higher wisdom.

Others are like rocks, planted firmly on the ground. Care not about their surroundings, for their stolidness is a certainty of the universe. An obvious virtue, with a more obvious flaw: flood beats rock.

Words have already been spent on the captain, perhaps more than were needed to describe a simple lamb of the lord, a small sinner like everyone else. Excelling in mediocrity his greatest talent, the whims of a drunk fate had put him in a situation that would have tested to the limits even the greatest seafarers.

Put it differently, he didn't belong to either group: he was proud enough to feel loathing at the idea of having to beg for his life, and that of his crew, but not blind enough to overestimate his chances, even if he didn't have a precise idea of the competences of his passengers.
Still it was a good assumption that Roma wouldn't organize this incredible mess for the sake of throwing a few angry women at the infidels.

Although that idea wasn't without its merits anyway...

When he opened his mouth again it was like he had to fabricate every single word individually, painstakingly assembling every letter, so difficult it was for him to pronounce them.
"If we break our backs, and you help, we should be in Cyprus by the end of tomorrow. Then you drop, take a new ship and then fuck off, Otherwise I'm burning this ship right here, right now and then we'd see if witches sink or now."

Sara, Extern Sister, O.Carm
Levantine Sea

That fucker. Riding on fear as he entered the room, Garnier having accomplished little, he opened his mouth, and I reached in a pocket, because this coward had no place commanding anything, not a boat nor a stable nor a horse if he was unwilling to control it, in fact more willing to sacrifice it than to make a choice, suicidal superstitious maniac who I could now feel more than see, and there was such a strong reason for it that the Greek had argued for that I would take it into my own hands if I hand't felt a hand on my shoulder suddenly.

I jerked, surprised. And then it all seemed pointless. Trying not to speak instead, I began wrapping the piece of cloth I had been using as a shawl around my hands; in mind I had sailors' bodies, their palms torn and destroyed by blisters and splinters. If we were going to have to row, it was not going to leave a mark on me, and he wouldn't have the satisfaction.

Eridis

The captain was clearly irritated, angry even. However his suggestion was sound, getting to Cyprus as fast as possible should have been the goal all along after the storms rather than this incessant bickering about superstition.

There was an uneasy silence after the captain had finished his short speech that lasted for a few seconds until everyone had the chance to let the captain's words sink in.

"I think your idea is good and if need be we'll help you get to Cyprus as fast as possible, I think most of my companions agree that it is preferable to most of the alternatives. But don't forget that doesn't make us your sailors, so don't treat us as such."

It was probably best I didn't mention how only a fool would threaten to kill himself if we did not comply, but we basically got what we wanted so there was no need to start poking holes in the crazy person. Now I just had to bring up one last thing, so I would be able to at least guarantee us good wind for tomorrow.

"Could you also remove the guards from the inside of our quarters, we need our sleep if we are to work tomorrow and I am sure at least more than one woman here will have qualms sleeping with two men standing watch right at their bed. "

Garnier de Nablus

"If we break our backs, and you help, we should be in Cyprus by the end of tomorrow. Then you drop, take a new ship and then fuck off, otherwise I'm burning this ship right here, right now and then we'd see if witches sink or now."

Garnier's blue eyes burned with animalistic, uncharacteristic fury before the knight blew out air through his mouth, letting out an exasperated sigh. He didn't like this situation, not in the slightest. As a matter of fact, the soldier of God was fed up with the constant back and forth of the captain and his companions, furious that the captain would, well, not exactly betray them but close enough that Garnier still felt anger from it.

Even if that was the case, he had to remain calm. Violence would benefit no one here, and the knight had sworn a quiet oath to himself to protect his companions. Dragging the ship into chaos would only endanger them, and this mission, and the blond wouldn't have that riding on his conscience. Clapping his hands together, it took a moment for Garnier to control his voice enough to speak.

"...I have no objections. I want, for all our sakes, for there to be no violence. If this is, truly, the only option that you are open to pursue, I will assist it. But, Captain," Garnier's voice was restrained, but even so, the shadow of something terrible was lurking behind the peaceful man's visage, a destructive force begging to slip its leash.

"I made a promise, and I will carry it out. If you... if someone so much as dares to touch my companions, I will not be lenient."

I will protect my comrades.

The threat was clear – not of death, but of terrible retribution – and Garnier seemed to have nothing more to say after that, leaning back against the side of the cabin, waiting for his companions to speak.

Alice

Alice had not expected such a rude reply from the Captain, and her face grew a little red.

He mustn't have had experience speaking with a Lady before, Alice thought, tucking the Scroll back into her armour. Well, at least he had agreed to take the party safely to Cyprus.

She thought about the concept of rowing a little raft with her ancestral longsword and laughed quietly to herself, forgetting the surroundings of the tense cabin.

Maude

Once more the captain spoke with the eight travelers, and once more Maude remained silent through the conversation. She was content to wait and watch, and speak only when spoken to. This was not a time for the rude servant girl to be making jabs at anyone's expense. All the same, she kept a hand on her out-of-sight warhammer's handle until a verdict was reached. Just in case.

"I'll work. That's not a problem. We just need to get this over with before people actually start trying to kill each other." Maybe it would still come to that. The captain had clearly given up, broken by some combination of fear and frustration, but would the crew fall in line as well? "Now, though, I think it's probably time for everyone to sleep like sane people. This madness will ruin us all if it keeps up."

Of course, Maude didn't plan to join the rest. His benevolence would keep her going as long as she needed, just the same as it always had. And until the ship finally made landfall, both sides of this argument risked needing an intervention to keep any bigger problems from breaking out. If the worst came to pass, the Hammer would be ready.

GM

The captain took the last threats in stride, not even replying to them. It would have been a good question to ask about the precise emotional state he was in, but in truth the man was now feeling the cold air of death brushing his skin, and found it agreeable. He left the cabin after ordering the withdrawal of the guards, past nonchalance, as a true lamb of the Lord: praise everything, refuse nothing.

The party's mood was left in a severe flux, now that the object of their rage had made of himself a collaborateur if not precisely a friend and nothing of note seemed to be going to happen.
One after the other they went to sleep, ceding to their bodies' protests over the great deal of frustration they had accumulated recently, finally realizing the futility of trying too hard to steer a destiny that belonged to His Will.

- - -

The following day was, put it simply, weird.
The tension had returned with a full host, and everyone walked with the greatest cure to not bump into someone else and risk becoming the spark of massacre. On the other hand, however, nothing of note happened: navigation was smooth, the repairs were being done efficiently and even the gruel was acceptable for once.
In other words, the better things were going, the more everyone acted like the End of Days was upon them.

The only piece of news was an alert from the look-out on the second mast, who reported around twilight the sighting of a military ship in front of them that immediately changed course and set for Cyprus.
The captain only shrugged at the news, saying to the party that the Cypriotes shouldn't be a problem, and to prepare for their arrival on the afternoon of the day after.

GM

As things would have it, he ended up being only partially wrong.
It was around midday that Cyprus first appeared on their sight, the great island resplendent in the cedar green that had made it precious to all the seafaring cultures of the Mediterranean from the times when the Gods still ruled over men.

At a quick glance it could be noticed that the westernmost port was in a strong activity, with scores of vessels of different design and origin leaving and coming from it at all time, while a squadron at full complement of the Cypriote Imperial fleet remained at guard of the harbor.
Specifically against the Byzantines.

It should be noted that, around the times that we speak of, the island of Cyprus lived under a state of near secession from the Empire because of its sovereign, Isaak Komnenos "of Cyprus", himself a curious footnote of Byzantine history.
The grandnephew of another Isaac who had lost his claim to the Crimson, he had been appointed provincial governor by the same new Basileus, only to throw that munificence to the winds after getting captured by the Armenians.
Then one day his jailers got tired of listening to his prattle, he was released after the payment of a small ransom, and he went to Cyprus to seize control of the island after showing some forged documents, declaring himself Basileus.

After that it seemed that Isaac, unable to best his more prestigious colleagues at Byzantium in the other fields, had decided to one-up them in cruelty and imbecility, despoiling the land to the best of his abilities.
Paranoia was the ruling ideology of the state, as the party would soon come to lament.

A single warship detached itself from the rest of the fleet and started the approach to the incoming dromon, not so fast to make it frightful but still enough to provoke a healthy respect of the armed authority, ending up as its shadow to the docks after some ship-to-ship shouting.

And finally the party's ship arrived at its destination, if not its original one: the captain motioned to his passengers to disembark while he left orders to some of the sailors to unload their possession. He led the former's group out, immediately encountering a squad of marine guards and a naval officer who spoke to them in an angry Greek.

The captain turned to the people at his side.
"Well, I can tell he's not in a good mood. And he might have said something about my mother. Someone else with a better Greek speak to this buffoon before I lose my temper."

Theodora could have confirmed both the assumptions, because a rough translation of the speech would have been: "How come a ship of the Empire is sporting flags of the Latin sons of bitches? Speak quickly!"

Theodora

Quote:

"How come a ship of the Empire is sporting flags of the Latin sons of bitches? Speak quickly!"

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Or as it was, from the gentle ministrations of a sea-worn crew caught between distrust and terror to the vile and tyrannical reign such that only a man recently risen from long and debasing disgrace could inflict. And certainly, Dux Isaac had accumulated a great deal of bile and spiteful grudges in the long years of his imprisonment in Cilicia, forgotten and abandoned by all, the full weight of which he was now exacting retribution for from the blameless people of Cyprus.

No wonder Andronikos had seen value in that man. From their cruelty to their paranoia, they truly were two of a kind.

Stepping forward from the small group, Theodora gave the captain at the helm of the squadron an eye-fetching bow, pulling her cowl back to let her fine features become visibly recognisable. Better for them to hear a voice they understand and see a face of their likeness, for some blades were already glistening in the sunlight, pulled halfway out of their scabbards by eager fingers.

"We are travelers from various lands, who pooled our livelihoods together to lease this barque for our journey, seeking passage into the Holy Land for our pilgrimage. We were beset by terrible storms and made for the nearest port, to find another vessel that would ferry us across the waters.

And as for your query in regards to the ship's allegiance, it is a simple matter. The timbers of Kyreneia are far and wide renown, and even those disinclined to everything that God made right and good can see as much. Though her hull was worn by many years at sea, the Latins spent their coin to acquire her rather than any poorly crafted vessel a Venetian or Pisan shipyard would have to offer. However much they would deny it, the Empire remains the ideal that the Latins cannot match; and however loath we were to require their services, circumstances forced our hand. For there are whispers of war brewing on the horizon, leaving us little choice but to hasten."

GM

The officer looked more than a little nonplussed during the spiel by the noblewoman, trying without success to ask himself the necessary questions, only to have nothing to say once she was done.
Almost half a minute passed and he finally found his voice again, but without the initial arrogance.

"I understand, and I cannot say to be surprised: we've been receiving scores of damaged ships since two days ago, all citing a sudden tempest throwing them away." A more characteristic sneer then. "But the usurper at Byzantium is selling ships to the barbàroi? I guess that's preferable than wasting them trying to invade us a second time. Still, what are your plans? That ship is barely seaworthy now."
The captain's face clouded over the last comment, betraying a possible knowledge of Greek for the nautical terminology.

"Anyway I'll guess that your captain will remain at the harbor the time necessary to make the repairs. And once I find a reliable translator I'll talk with him to arrange for the docking fees." The man slowly shook his head at that point, clearly frustrated beyond belief for the horrible ignorance of the other man.

"As for you... new aspirants to the martyrdom in the Holy Land, you said? You Franks are truly a marvel."
"It's not my job to help you securing passage, but you might be able to find a roof for the night, provided all the inns aren't full already for the tempest."

Finally the officer offered a minimal bow, gesturing to the quiet, small city behind him and speaking in a fully formal tone."
"You're welcomed by the Empire of Cyprus and Byzantium, and the city of Polis".

"Oh, and ten gold coins for your permanence, thank you kindly."

Alice

Seven...eight...nine...ten!

Alice rummaged around in a little purse and pulled out ten gold solidus, before stretching our her arm and dumping them into the hands of the unprepared man.

"Wow, so this is Cyprus? It looks like a pleasant land. Let's see what food you have to offer! I'm tired of ship rations!"

Garnier de Nablus

Garnier didn't gawk at Alice's spending, certainly not. That would have been rude of him, and so the blonde knight refrained. Instead, he answered Alice, and leaned over to address the party as a whole. There was no sense trying to haggle money that had already been spent, such as it was.

"That it does, Lady Aliana. What do you think of finding an inn and quarters before the rest, though? We should establish a temporary base before finding another ship, at least."

GM

The officer's hand snatched away the money on the instant, its possessor all too happy to be done away with the inconvenience so quickly.
After a look at the coinage he took a more pleased look, and produced a lower bow than before.
"Thank you kindly and, uhm, come to think of it for a little extra I could keep an eye for other ships to the East..."

Meanwhile, the captain cleared his throat one more time and spoke to Garnier. "Well... this is it. You have my prayers for your journey. And... apologies. Goodbye."

At that he sighed and started "talking " to the port officer.

Eridis
Cyprus

After that night the journey had gone relatively painlessly, it would appear the captain’s worries were for naught as the ship’s crew mostly kept to themselves after that. I helped them both overtly with repairs and covertly by performing rituals to keep the weather clear for the duration of our journey. If the storms were created by another sorcerer, they had decided to let us pass as I felt no interference. Maybe it was the will of god that we’d proceed, that’s what I chose to believe.

Getting off the ship was a welcome feeling, so much trouble and soon they’d have to do it again. It’s almost enough to want to simply settle down and refuse to leave this island.
I looked at Maude having a conversation with the dock officer, having a hard time following precisely what was being said, but it seemed our next destination was going to be an inn. All in all the journey had been taxing and a moment of respite would be welcome before we get on our next ship. The others seemed to be in agreement.

I addressed the rest of the party "I guess, we should go look for lodging before it gets too late, does anyone have an idea where to start?"
]]>Roleplaying (In-Character)Leftovershttp://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread.php/8203-Archive-Tuitio-Mysterii-et-Obsequium-Reliquiarium-Nasuverse-IN-THE-MIDDLE-AGEEES-%28IC%29Astronomika - Shooting Down Falling Stars (IC)http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread.php/8195-Astronomika-Shooting-Down-Falling-Stars-%28IC%29?goto=newpost
Tue, 08 Jan 2019 19:56:50 GMT

Tires occasionally bumping against the old, worn-down asphalt road. Yet another old, solemn song crackling out from the ancient radio. The moquette of the bus seats stinking of dust and cigarette smoke, practically sweating thanks to the sun outside shining far stronger than it should in early September.

This had been your reality for better part of the day.

The journey to Road's End was nearing its end, but at the same time, that same journey had yet to properly even begin. This bus trip across the country, one that had taken quite a long time all-together, was just the prologue. Soon enough you'd be arriving to the small rural town at the back roads of Washington State, nestled between sea and the mountains. There the much-talked-about school of Pinefall High awaited – your home away from home for the next year. It was in the sticks to be sure, much more than any of you had ever really experienced. Only about 3000 people lived there, apparently. But it was away from the hustle and bustle of the world, surrounded by beautiful nature and most importantly of all... it was quiet.

In other words a perfect location for what was basically a nursing home for society's rejects – a mental hospital disguised as a high school.

Your reasons for attending Pinefall High School for Troubled Youth were your own, but it was clear that there were many like you. Twenty-nine in total, to be exact. These youngsters would be your classmates for the following year and judging from how quiet it was at the bus... each one of you was thinking approximately the same thoughts:

“Is there really any point to this?”

It wasn't completely dead silent, of course. Few people were talking with each other and there was a low buzz of discussion joining the droning rumble of the vehicle's tires, but that's all it was. The loudest thing was the radio, and even that had been turned down low so that it wouldn't bother the passengers,as per request of the woman sitting on one of the front seats. She was quite the striking figure, as strict as a whip and with clear fire in her eyes. Her dress was casual but still carried the air of formality around it, giving you an unpleasant image of a military school faculty member. The only saving grace was the smile she occasionally flashed when she looked at the other passengers – it had the calming effect similar to a veterinarian approaching a wounded dog. It was clear this was not her first time when it came to dealing with youngsters like you.

Before you had stepped into the bus,she had introduced herself as Ms. Leuzinger, one of your teachers during the following year.

The stuffy atmosphere of the bus,mixing with the clear dust hanging in the air revealed by the rays of sunlight streaming through the dirty windows, was not the most promising. Indeed it felt a little less like you were about to embark on a new journey – an adventure even. Having been forced to sit in this vehicle for hours upon hours, the atmosphere was more akin to a bunch of young criminals being carted off to a juvenile hall.Trickles of sweat down your neck, uncomfortable numbness in your body that wouldn't shake off no matter how much you changed the way you sat, repetitive song after repetitive song coming from God-knows-what local station specializing in Dad-Rock. Combination of all these factors, along with hundreds of other little thing that kept bothering you, slowly but surely made this situation unbearable for you and the others, until you were sure that someone very soon would scream out in frustration. But just as this boiling point began to approach---

"This is your driver Mainfield speaking,” the PA system of the bus blared out suddenly with the voice of the driver. “We have now reached Road's End, so if you'll look to your right..."

A small town nestled next to a large cliff, surrounded by forest and impossibly large ocean and a towering mountain of green reaching for heights behind it. Small buildings of log and stone and concrete shining in the sunlight, looking like they had been there for centuries. A small town of unquestionable rustic beauty and with an aura of old ways resonating from it. Somewhere, the fresh scent of pine trees entered your nose. Douglas firs and sycamore trees whistled past and eventually gave way to a perfect view of this approaching small town, one that welcomed you in with open arms for the next year.

It seemed peaceful – almost kind. Old but reliable grandfather that lived alone but was always happy to see his grandchildren.

And today, you'd become one of those hundreds of grandchildren.

Today you'd become a resident of Road's End, Washington.

The sudden appearance of your destination caused a sudden stir in the passengers of the bus. Teenagers stirred from their apathy and took a look at the town, each one displaying a different expression. Some viewed with clear interest, some with disdain, some with completely neutral expression... and some just glanced at it and went back to whatever they were doing.

And the people around you specifically...

For Vier Wolff this trip had been slightly more bothersome than to others. A rather rude white-haired punk had been kneeing her seat to keep himself entertained during the trip, and while you had told him to stop it,he had only acted like he didn't understand a word you said (he definitely did, though, judging from his shit-eating grin) and ignored you. Meanwhile the girl next to you had kept her nose buried in her book -Sophie's Choice- and ignored you during the journey. However, now she had finally roused from her trance and took a look at the approaching town... quite the intense look, in fact, like she was challenging the town into a fight.

For Momoi Hisa this trip had been rather awkward. The incredibly tiny girl next to her (who went barefoot of all things) had fidgeted on her seat during the whole trip, clearly wanting to start up a conversation but not exactly finding the courage to do so. Then there was the backpack she kept on her lap. It might have been Momoi's imagination, but... sometimes it almost felt like the backpack moved on its own. And she was pretty sure there had been a subdued bark or two at some point coming from within its depths. Whenever something like this had happened, the small girl in red had grown incredibly flustered and nervous.

For Lucille Faraday this trip had been pleasant enough. The man who had sat next to her had offered her the window seat once she had gotten on the bus, being content with sitting on the aisle-side. He had answered politely enough to small-talk but was clearly not interested in talking, choosing instead to focus on drawing the scenery passing by the windows. His notebook had slowly been filling with picture after picture, each one more detailed than the last.

For Prushka this trip could have gone better. The man who had been sitting next to her hadn't bothered to give her the window seat – hell, he hadn't even acknowledged her existence in but the most cursory of ways! Just a single glance, a grunt, and then this young man who more resembled a lanky, ridiculously tall lion than anything else just put on his headphones and continued to listen his mullet rock blaring loud enough for even her to hear. In other words, she had been completely ignored.

For Vivienne Bianchi this trip offered no real points of interest, if not for the man sitting across the aisle from her who had claimed two seats as his own and kept everyone else at bay with rude words and rather angry presence. The person sitting next to her (either a very handsome woman or a very beautiful man) had curtly introduced themselves as Alex Terrot at the start of the journey. For the rest of the time they had been writing shorthand on their notepad that was bursting from the seams. Currently this person was watching the sight of the town, unreadable expression on their face.

For Alexstrasza Lockhart this trip had been a challenge in itself. The girl sitting next to her talked without a pause (mostly about herself after she got tired of her fruitless efforts of switching the seats so she could be next to the window) and showed no signs of stopping even now that they were close to the town of Road's End. She had introduced herself as Cesarina Feroce, her attitude close to a noble deeming to talk with a pauper, which was annoying in itself – but the worst thing was definitely her nasally voice. She was definitely the loudest person in the bus by far.

For Colt Davin and Adelaide Cheshire this trip had been a normal one. The two of them couldn't have been more different when it came to each other, but their interactions had been polite enough so far (perhaps caused by the tiredness that so often accompanied long car-trips). The only bothersome points were the constantly talking girl one seat ahead of them... and the other girl sitting across the aisle from them. She was one of those people who had claimed two seats for themselves, and had spent most of her time checking her make-up and looks from her compact. The looks she sometimes bothered to shoot towards Adelaide were rude to a fault, accompanied by a sneer that seemed to ridicule the fancily dressed girl.

For Anna Vandemeel this trip had been surprising pleasant... if a bit confusing. The girl sitting next to her (though she smelled of long roads traveled and sand) was a polite one, introducing herself as Ramia. She seemed to enjoy the prospect of 'having some time off' as she put it and entertained herself by playing a hand-held game console during the journey. She even offered to let Anna borrow her Sega Game Gear but after some futile attempts of explaining how it worked she simply laughed and told she could borrow one of her books instead. And as luck would have it, her backpack was full of travel guides to all sorts of places around the world. Now she was watching the view from the window with a glint in her eyes and a small grin on her lips.

For Elaine Winters this trip had been a quiet one. The person sitting next to her practically squeezed herself against the window in an attempt to keep the distance between them as high as possible. It was not out of rudeness, surprisingly enough, but more likely fear of strangers. This person was a text-book example of a shrinking violet, answering with a quiet, meek voice and short bursts of words to any questions asked. The only thing this oddball had done during the trip was stare at her hands that were white and soft – hands of someone who had never done a harsh day's work in their lives. Now this person's eyes were glued to the sight of the approaching town, myriad emotions displayed in their depths.

For John Dove and Elise Pelltier this trip had been surprisingly fun... for whatever it meant to the both of them. They had sat at the back of the bus, a place with far more leg room to stretch at. In addition to this, the third person sitting there was just a bursting with energy and goodwill. Having introduced herself as Sakura Tsukioka, she had spent the day having pleasant small-talk with the two of them and even offered them lunch from her sizable basket of sandwiches and soda that she had brought with her to the bus. Now this ball of joy was excitedly talking about the town they were seeing, clearly looking forward to arriving there.

A clear air of excitement, tension and waiting grew inside the bus as the town of Road's End got closer and closer. Soon enough you all would be arriving and then... your year away from your homes would begin. Soon enough you'd start your new life at the boonies, away from the rest of the world. Soon enough you'd experience a school life unlike you might have experienced so far, as provided by the Oceandrop Program.

No matter what your thoughts, motivations and expectations were, one thing was clear: This was going to be a whole new start in so many ways.

You realize you're committing a sin don't you? Just what wish did you desire so badly?

???
Eden
The Past

Once upon a time there was an innocent and naive child
The child gave the people everything the child could give
The people took everything the child had left to take
And what remained was an empty shell

Ao-22
Eden
The Past

Outside, the sun had only just begun to slowly set below the horizon. The golden colored sky would slowly begin to fade and dim as night replaced day. However there existed one location where the light would never fade. Within the vast underground networks of Inferno, there existed a secret facility, hidden away from the watchful eyes of Eden's government. Outside the reach of Eden's laws where they can research Eden's greatest taboo in safety.

Devil summoning.

The temptation of a wish.

The dreams of power.

It was enough to make some folks throw caution to the wayside. Such people inevitably do not remain long for the world.

No, instead the people here would take their time, and slowly uncover all the mysteries of this phenomena, peel away all of its secrets. And then, once it was completely safe and controllable, they would reap benefits beyond their wildest imaginations.

The folly of man. There are some things that are forbidden for a reason. Some powers that can be neither tamed nor broken.

And those that deal in fire should not be surprised if they get burned.

For the first time in as long as anybody could remember, the constant white lights that illuminated the facility briefly flickered. They flickered again. They began rapidly flipping back and forth until with a low whine, they remained off, plunging the facility into darkness.

There was a click as the electronic locks were disabled. At the end of a corridor, a door opens and a boy slowly makes his way out. In the distance at the other end of the corridor, he could hear screaming. And in the air he could smell... blood.

Normal instincts told him to flee in the opposite direction, away from the danger. But in the distance, there was a brightness. He walked towards the light.

As he walked, the smell of blood became thicker and thicker. The screams had long since died away. But the boy was determined. Once he decided upon a course of action he would see things through.

He found himself at the corridor's end, standing in front of a door. Without hesitation he opened the door and found himself in a large white room that had been stained red with the blood of the numerous corpses within in. And in the center, staring at the boy was a giant nightmarish hound cloaked in brilliant red flames. It opened its mouth and spoke in a deep growl.

"And who exactly, are you?"

Ana
Eden
The Past
Just how did things come to this? The girl took a brief moment to reflect on just how awful of a downward spiral her life had taken. On the whole, her life hadn't been bad at all. But still, she threw it all away. Down, down, down she fell. And just when things had finally started looking up, she plummeted. Betrayed, captured, drugged, beaten, and far worse...

There was nothing she could do. Here in her empty locked room, she possessed nothing that would allow her to fight back or escape. No bed, no chairs, no objects of any kind, no window... a solitary light too high to reach was the only thing providing illumination to this cell. There was nothing she could do...

Her eyes narrowed. An image had flashed through her mind. An old parchment that she had once stolen and sold on the black market for a hefty price... she still remembered its contents. Yes. She did have one option left to her. Even if there was nothing within this jail cell, she possessed the knowledge she had accumulated over years on the streets of Inferno. It was... a risky gamble. She knew that. It was something that could easily leave her in a much worse situation than her current one. It was the greatest blasphemy that she could possibly commit within the city of Eden.

But she had no other options. If damnation was the risk, then so be it. She forcefully bit her own palm, hard enough to draw blood, and then slowly began to draw a summoning circle on the floor of her cell. There was nothing else she could use to paint the circle. The process took over an hour, but in that time nobody came to check on her. Who would? She was a bird trapped in a birdcage. Absolutely no risk or danger whatsoever.

There was a burst of black smoke that exploded out from the circle. The smell of burning metal filled the girl's nostrils. And at the center of the circle... stood a tall dark skinned lady devil with eyes like burning rubies. She stared at the shocked girl without any apparent interest, with her arms crossed.

Patiently waiting.

Theola August
Eden
The Past

Across the empty back alleys of Inferno, a solitary shadow flickered through. Several heartbeats later, three more shadows flickered after it in pursuit.

"!"

Theola raced through the twisting streets and paths at breakneck speeds, moving with the nimbleness and grace that had been drilled into her body as a result of years of specialized and brutal training. There was absolutely no way an ordinary human being could keep up with her.

Unfortunately, her pursuers were anything but ordinary. They were the 'same' as her. Underworld assassins. They had undergone the same training, possessed the same capabilities she did, the same skills she did... only the outnumbered her three to one. In other words, there was no way she could outfight them. And as her current situation demonstrated, there did not seem to be any way she could escape them.

But still, she had finally found it. The thing she had been looking for, a way to finally escape this life she hated, a chance to start over as someone new. Someone different. To that end, when the chance came she betrayed her organization in the midst of a transaction and stole the prize for herself. Something priceless.

The hope of a miracle.

It goes without saying that the punishment for such a betrayal is death. She was going to be 'deposed' of, like so many other people. When she was so close to finally achieving her wish, she was going to fall a few step shorts...

She refused. She would escape this situation. She would achieve her miracle. She did not care what the price was. Putting her head down, she pulled out a burst of speed from deep within herself and dashed forward. And then just as suddenly, she cut sharply to the side, moving into a side alley. Taking a few more steps, she took a deep breath, kicked hard at the ground, and leaped. She then kicked off a wall, another wall, and landed on someone's balcony without a sound. She immediately threw herself to the floor and held her breath, listening until the pursuing footsteps went past her into the distance.

She had brought herself some time.

As silently as she could, she broke into the apartment of the balcony where she had landed. Fortunately for her, it seemed to be empty. She quickly took out the parchment and a bottle of red liquid and begun to draw the diagram that was pictured on the paper. The moment it was completed, a foul smell began to leak from the center of the circle, stinging her nose. A mass of flesh seemed to leak out of the various vigils drawn, combining and transforming into a single mass until a giant leering flesh monstrosity covered in scars was staring straight at her. It growled.

"What you want?"

Asher Bharrant
Eden
The Past

The news had caused something to snap inside of himself. His parents had died a long time ago. And now his brother too, was dead. His family was gone. It wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. Still in a shocked stupor, Asher walked around his abode in a daze. And without thinking anything in particular, he began violently destroying his own home.

Damn them. Damn them. Damn them. It's all their fault. How dare they condemn us to Inferno. It's the people living carefree lives in Paradiso. It's the people living carefree lives in Purgatorio. It's the damn Council, ruling over us like kings. It's all their fault my family is dead and gone-

He pauses. In his rampage, he has found a safe that he has never seen before. Along with a letter. Gingerly, he picked it up and began to read.

A letter from his deceased brother. An inheritance for Asher in case anything had ever happened to him. What was inside was a miracle that would grant Asher the power to protect himself, to live his life and achieve his dreams. It was a power too great for himself to control and tame, but if it was Asher, he knows he'll be able to do it. He was always the best of them.

Slowly, Asher turned his attention to the safe itself. There was no combination or code written in the letter, but he knew in his heart what the password would be.

Using his birthday, he unlocked the safe and discovered the terrible secret his brother had hidden inside.

"...just what were you doing, brother?"

Asher whispered to himself as he read the notes hidden in the safe.

Devil summoning.

The ability to gain a wish at a price.

The ultimate taboo set by Eden.

Asher's eyes narrowed. Ultimate taboo? Who cares what Eden thinks. Who cares what they consider taboo. They couldn't keep his family safe. They were no better than garbage. If it's a taboo, then he'll show them just what a blasphemy is.

He drew the circle and performed the ritual. Immediately he was thrown back by a blast of air. A terrible clanging sound like an orchestra of steel echoed throughout his home as a figure in armor unfolded itself from within the circle. A tall figure, dressed in what seemed to be ancient samurai armor of the east, with a body like red steel. It's empty eye sockets stared directly at Asher.

"I ask of you, are you my summoner?"

Fatima/Leila/???
Eden
The Past

Damn damn damn damn damn. Fatina sprinted up the stairwell as fast as she could, trying to keep the worst case scenario out of her mind. She had started at the very bottom and slowly, painfully climbed her way up the ranks of life. Through her sweat and blood, she slowly carved out a life for herself even down here in the depths of Inferno. She was aware that this made her many enemies along the way, but she felt confident in herself and her ability to deal with them.

But this was an attack from a direction she had never expected. An attack that struck close to her heart. And fighting back tears, praying she'll make it in time, she sprinted onwards.

Elsewhere, a girl slowly began to wake. She had been drugged. Leila gradually began to become aware of her surroundings. She had been bound, head to toe in ropes preventing her from moving. Standing before her was a man, one of Fatina's rivals in the Night Parade to rising through the ranks. Just what was he doing? It looked like he was drawing something on the floor, but Leila was unable to make sense of what it was.

A memory suddenly jolted through her mind. Wasn't she talking to this man last night? What had they been talking about? Something about a secret uncovered which could grant some sort of power...? She hadn't really understood it at the time because that was the exact moment her memories went out. But an idea was beginning to form in her mind, and it scared her.

Her fears were soon realized as suddenly a giant cloud of red smoke erupted through the room, and in the center of the circle stood a female devil.

The man kneeled before her.

"Great Devil from the pits of Hell, I seek a wish that I request to be granted."

Ashley Harker
Eden
The Past

Call it coincidence. Call it destiny. Ashley Harker was a man with a dream and a vision. Unfortunately for him, his desire was an impossible fantasy, and nobody understood this better than he did. Nonetheless, every day, every morning he would wake up and despite the sheer reality of life in Inferno, he would try to make the world a better place.

Every morning. Every day. For weeks and months and years, he fought his thankless war on his own. He had his small victories, and he's seen his share of tragedies but even as the world beats him back, he continues on.

This morning began just like any other. He had been walking down the streets when he witnessed an attempted kidnapping. A man grabbing a young boy, ripping him out of his mothers hands, sprinting down the street. Unfortunately for him, Ashley had been further down the street walking in the opposite direction and quickly moved to block his path. The kidnapper looked up, made a quick decision, and threw the kid hard one way as he quickly sprinted down the back alleys in another direction. Ashley managed to catch the child, preventing him from getting hurt but by the time he got back up the man had vanished. The criminal had gotten away, but at the very least he had managed to save one person.

His mother broke down in tears as he brought her son back to her, and despite his protests that he didn't need any kind of reward, gave him an old, leather-bound book. She said it was a priceless family heirloom and the most valuable thing that they possessed. Not wanting to be rude, he graciously accepted the book.

Flipping through it however, made it clear exactly how valuable the book was. An ancient grimoire, filled with all sorts of supernatural knowledge. Ashley quickly returned home and spent the rest of his day slowly and thoroughly reading the book. And as he read, an idea slowly began to form in his mind.

It was well past midnight by the time he finished preparations. A large intricate summoning circle had been drawn in the center of his room. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for what he was attempting to do. This was an action that could not be undone. A sin that would not be forgiven. But for the sake of his dream, for the sake of a better world... he was willing to break such a taboo ten times over. He opened his eyes and performed the ritual that had been detailed in the book.

There was a blinding flash of light, and within the center of the circle stood a large bull headed man, calmly staring at Ashley, measuring him up with his eyes. Outside, dawn had finally arrived, as the sun slowly began to rise over the horizon. It was morning again, but not unlike any other he had ever had until now.